Prodigrail:A Tale of Swords, Heroes and Magical Girls
by Honore - Form. MerlintoVivian
Summary: Shirou dreams of becoming a hero. Luckily, the definition of the word encompasses many things. This story and its world is one of them. (Old Merlin readers, please read author's note at start-thank you.)
1. A Short Girl Shorts Out the War! Part 1

And thus, because of my therapist's suggestion, do I resurrect this old short. In the process, she says, I should be able to come to terms with the "me" from before.

A little background: I wrote this little number roughly 7 years ago, after reading Fate/stay night (an interesting visual novel). I worked on it for nigh on a year until I took my break off of writing in '07.

A word of warning: despite the first sentence, this is loooong, and is composed of 90% fighting and 10% exposition. In true reader response fashion, I write a fiction about a chuuni game using chuuni itself. It also has quite annoying shifts in point of view owing to some whim back then that I'm forgetting. I've tried to edit it a tad when encoding from paper to Notepad, but it has to be said that all of it is a rough draft.

This will be marked complete, as I have no intention of continuing it, and even if I did it would be in the same situation as my other fiction as Merlin on this site: works I identify as mine but which I do not truly recognize anymore. The imaginary end of rehab and meds might see a different result. But as of now, I bid you all a good day, and I am, as ever, the humble

Merlin (Honore 1/2)

Summary: Shirou dreams of becoming a hero. Luckily, the definition of the word encompasses many things. This story and its world is one of them.

Part 1

A Short Girl Shorts Out the War in a Night!

Being a magus, Tosaka Rin found nothing completely surprising in the world anymore.

She knew rituals and concepts and paradigms that defied the ironbound limits of reality and common decency, that exposed oneself to the realms of death, madness and despair. But this... this sight was on a completely different level.

"I can't... let you do this... Saber! I won't let you die!"

And right before four pairs of eyes: one disbelieving, one bloody-red, one just plain bloody and the last completely out for blood, Emiya Shirou held out something in his hand, glaring straight forward and yelling:

"I unveil this Contract: I shall be a hero!"

"What the hell?" Rin—the dignified Tosaka magus-stood agape.

In the boy's place stood a girl much shorter than him, with flaring, unkempt hair and wearing what looked like a frilly dress under a pair of overalls.

The girl now spoke, plain and clear. With a grim, steely expression that had no place on its cute face, she pointed past a shocked Saber at the Berserker. "By my pride as a hero, monster, you shall cease your assault!"

* * *

In this world

islands are mountains in the murk

drawn by the Spear.

And so unfurled

the heavenly works

endures and endears,

Are born, die and return

/

Join this odyssey

Lash a raft together

Rowing out to sea

To those islands in the murk

* * *

Tearing, tedious, long.

Those were the days of one Emiya Shirou.

(That's me.)

"Why're you staring so intently at that calendar, senpai?" My underclassman, Sakura, approached me one day, carrying a stack of papers.

I'd given her a quick smile and a short explanation that wasn't really the truth.

I give her a silent apology.

I wasn't looking at the calendar to remember the next sale day at the supermarket.

I was glaring at it, in frustration, after six months of long, tearing, tedious days at my hometown.

"It's for your own good. I mean, you kinda brought it on yourself," I was told, while being pushed into the train. "You'll come back though, and that's a promise."

I really wanted to hold him to that.

But it was six months!

Babies could be almost born in that time.

Meanwhile I worked on my normal self's reinforcement techniques, forbidden to train other things.

Tearing, tedious, long.

All that changed in the instant I witnessed two figures fight with resonating steel.

The moment I almost died to a rookie mistake, and found myself face to face with a beautiful knight wrapped in golden, holy light.

The priest, whom I didn't visit for a confession, stared at me almost knowingly after telling me all that could be told about the War of the Holy Grail.

"Rejoice, for all that you desire can finally be possible."

I felt more than a little angry.

I wanted to tell him what I really thought about this War-that I would end it in one sweep if I could.

After all, I thought I didn't have time for things like this.

I don't know about Saber, but becoming a hero wasn't something Kotomine or Tosaka would understand.

They seemed to come from the same world as my father: selfish and self-serving, seeking "something" beyond their work.

Not that father showed those qualities when I knew him.

He was the exception that gave me my current purpose.

And as much as the priest's words rang true, he and Tosaka and Saber couldn't possibly understand, even if I explained slowly and clearly, about my circumstances.

Still, I was thinking, when afterwards we strolled through the city silently, that this War would be an interesting diversion.

A lot of people would need saving if I knew my instincts right.

"Tosaka," I said, staring towards the moonlit horizon of the sea as we crossed the bridge, "It would be fair to assume there will be collateral damage throughout this war, right?"

"In extreme circumstances, yes," she said. "But we have rules that can be enforced by Kirei to discourage such behavior. I'm not sure, but I think points are docked if a Master does anything completely destructive, like say blow up this bridge or massacre everyone downtown."

"That's good to know," I muttered, stealing a glance at the raincoat-clad Saber. "Saber, you wouldn't object if we stick to those rules, right? No involving innocent bystanders and all."

"It is acceptable," she replied smoothly. "In fact, I thank you for that, Master. It is… a commendable way to fight." She looked at Tosaka. "But I must stress that as a Master you must also be uncompromising when it comes to the enemy. The real enemy."

Apparently, that last bit of advice applied to enemy Masters as well, when we were immediately confronted by that towering monstrosity.

I restrained myself when Saber charged into battle.

I was appalled at the rampant destruction that monster could deal out.

Its little skirmish with Saber and Tosaka had torn up the asphalt of that little street.

And then, when I saw someone in danger of dying in front of me, something inside me roared to life.

Saber's form: bloody and unyielding.

That was something I'd only seen in the fiercest of heroes.

I could not let somebody like that die, even if she pledged herself to be my Servant.

And Tosaka was in danger as well.

I rushed forward, blood pumping in my ears.

No time to think.

I know my duty, and I will do it.

I must become a hero!

I withdrew my fetish, the small, cold slag of metal and shouted the Words.

"I unveil this Contract: I shall be a hero!"

The fetish flared to life in my hand, having gained permission from its master.

Lightning flared through my body and fire coursed through my veins.

The pain that follows is excruciating during the first time.

But the first time was always worse than the ones that followed.

Everyone rationalized the pain differently.

For me, it felt like the pain from projection practice magnified four hundred times.

A sensation of seven hundred hot iron rods simultaneously sliding against my spine.

There was the feeling of being remade: muscles tearing and regrowing, bones shattering and reforming, skin sloughing off and replaced.

Worse than the above was the feeling of nerves forced to grow at the same time, magnifying the sensations even further.

All in the space of a second.

It wasn't _that _bad.

The pain from leaving a duty unfulfilled was worse.

Clad in my new, more appropriate form, I gave that thing my ultimatum.

"By my pride as a hero, monster, you shall cease your assault!"

* * *

The monster roars in response.

All other eyes watch, some in horror, as the slip of a girl, little taller than Illyasviel, meets the monster head on.

The monster charges, snorting and stamping on the road like a train.

Its first attack is like lightning, a flash few can be prepared for.

It aims unerringly for the girl's small body, and there is little doubt she is doomed.

But there is a sound, like the toll of a large bell.

The girl flies away, tumbling backward to a crouch on the ground.

In her hand is a wok, bent inward by the giant's force.

"It's fast-!"

She tosses the makeshift shield away.

Drawing on the energy pooled in her newborn magic circuits, the girl enforces the will of creation.

Emiya Shirou is a mediocre magus, only capable of rudimentary analysis and reinforcement.

But

(t)here

is

a Secret

The transformative energies take that potential and mold it into something a hero needs.

Since the mold is partially cast already, it is easy enough to fill in with the energies from the Contract.

It magnifies the inadequate human known as Emiya Shirou into a being suited for heroic deeds.

Now, the girl can birth a thousand blades, as many as the hair on her skin.

And so, after the incantation, what now glints in the moonlight are two boning knives, small and slender in her hands.

The monster is not idle.

As if already forgetting the flaxen-haired knight, it charges forward, wading through and tearing up the asphalt like it was shallow water.

The average human would have better chances of avoiding a charging Berserker's attack by standing in front of a runaway train.

But the Contract, knowing the capabilities of those that needs to be fought, has also gifted the girl with superhuman strength, speed and reflexes.

She tumbles over the blade's swing, making two attacks of her own.

The knives sink into the skin, drawing blood.

First blood.

The fact seems to enrage the giant, as the girl makes three more quick stabs on its body, before pushing upward with her feet.

The jagged edge pursues her.

It connects, and there is a thump as some blood splashes on the giant's face.

It is Berserker's point.

For although the Contract allows her to accomplish superhuman deeds, she is young and inexperienced, and is but a human on top of it all.

And Berserker is a Servant-a familiar formed from crystallized human legend.

The two knives are thrown wildly as a parting gift.

Having fulfilled their purpose, they disappear, leaving holes in its skin.

The girl, a few feet away, clutches the side of her arm.

A chunk of flesh was gouged out.

"Master!" someone shouts.

"It's… _too _fast."

The thing stands, like an insurmountable guardian.

A monster that possesses extreme speed and power cannot be confounded by inferior technique.

It must be overpowered, or outsped, or even better, both.

The little scratches she has managed to make are now knitting close.

Overwhelming power or speed: take your pick.

The girl makes that split-second decision; smashing thirteen magic circuits in one go with a twitch of her head.

"_Attend, attend, thou tempered soul. I, the hammer, I, the forge._"

The words hold no clear meaning, like the senseless humming at the beginning of a song, or the dozing chants of the forest.

Its purpose opens the gate to her power, letting a minor miracle occur.

She is inured to the paralyzing pain that follows.

Standing firm, she follows the quick ritual through.

Light fills her senses as the creature continues its relentless assault.

A familiar weight now rests in her hands.

To others, it is an impractical spear, too big and unwieldy for a girl like her to carry.

To her, it is a weapon, a simple cleaver super-sized for her use.

The short handle is of an easily forgotten material—so brittle it would only last one swing.

Yet a swing is all she'll need.

Because the blade, thrice its length and twenty-times its size and dwarfing the girl so handily, menaces its victim with a surety of eradication.

The steel smells like it is about to rust.

It has a dull edge that the girl finds unsatisfying.

But it will do.

It is a question of seconds and hair-splitting distances.

The girl has a weapon to match the monster's.

They each swing with determination, though the girl is a little late.

That lateness works to her advantage.

Holding the giant cleaver parallel behind her, the girl sidesteps the giant by a millimeter.

Even that distance propels her away, like a leaf in the storm.

But the girl swings in that same instant, slamming the blade against the giant's side.

She grits her teeth from the recoil.

The impact shears the skin from her calloused hands.

It is all she can do to grip the splintering handle, to ensure the swing follows through.

In the end, she loses hold of her creation, losing her arms just as quickly as she'd forged it.

But the giant blade cuts deep, eviscerating bone and muscle to rest against its heart, barely missing it—by a millimeter.

The howling stills.

The giant dies standing.

The girl lands: winded, bleeding.

Triumphant.

She surveys her work.

It required a lot more magic from her than was needed, but the job was still done.

The Servant was definitely something else.

In the end, it had been overwhelming power that saved the day.

Contract-fuelled magic crafting a suitable tool of steel.

It wins no awards and is no masterpiece, but the monster—her enemy—cannot appreciate that, for it is vanquished.

A simple concept.

A passable product.

A splendid execution.

Tentatively, she moves to turn around, to survey the battlefield.

But to her great shock, the giant moves, and she is a blur, somersaulting backward from the explosion and landing on ungainly feet.

Her spear, its magic spent, dissipates.

The colossus howls a challenge into the night, as if defying impotent Death.

The wound has been filled.

"Oh no."

* * *

It's my fault.

I was so eager to fulfill my oath that I forgot to set up a few things.

What magecraft I knew was transferred to my transformation.

I could project simple tools and turn them into deadly weapons.

I could reinforce my body in a way that made it tougher and faster.

Doing that would've given me an edge I needed against that thing.

And now I was in a really big mess, against a monster that can apparently regenerate its wounds, that wouldn't die even if it had been clearly killed.

It looked like I couldn't do this solo after all.

"Master… is that you?"

I stole a glance sideward.

Saber was there beside me, looking surprisingly none the worse for wear.

Beyond her was Tosaka, a strange look on her face.

"Yes. It's still me, Saber. Can you… support me? We'll need one of us to divert its attention long enough for a decisive strike. It looks like missing the mark didn't kill it enough."

It looked like this was the time for a duo attack.

But Saber surprised me with her reply.

"No, I will not. _You _must stay back from now, Master. Now that you've unlocked your magic circuits, I no longer need to conserve energy."

She took a stance, having moved forward.

"I can handle it," I said, protesting. "It's much better if we work as a team, right?"

"You can't afford to be careless here, Master!" Saber snapped. "If you, my Master, die, then I will have failed in my oath!"

Frustration rippling through me, I stomped my feet and turned to Tosaka.

She still had that weird look on her face.

"You should retreat, Tosaka," I told her. "Thanks for fighting by our side, but I don't want you to sacrifice yourself for our sake. You're a Master too, right?"

"Emiya-kun," she said, after a short silence. "What the _heck _is this?"

"It'll take too long to explain. And-"

The monster was walking forward, looking strangely dignified as it did so.

"It looks like he's coming."

The child's voice returned, sounding chiding.

"That's sorta unfair, onii-san. Or is it nee-san now?"

The girl who called herself Illyasviel walked out in front of Berserker.

She tilted her head, red eyes losing the gleam of malice from before the start of the fight.

"And you even shaved off one of Berserker's lives. It's so unbelievable! If I wasn't so surprised at the moment, I'd be angry with you, nee-san."

Saber glared, looking ready to strike at the girl if I didn't know the giant's capabilities first hand.

She would never make it that far.

The girl seems to sense this, eyes sweeping over to Saber and then back to me.

"I had hoped, nee-san, to talk about your unique magecraft over tea."

There was a quick twitch in her lips.

I realized Tosaka was still keeping her gaze on me.

A magus like her was still struck dumb by a situation like this?

"But tonight is not a night for pleasantries. We'll have to speak some other time. Berserker, kill Rin, and for now, her only."

I gasped.

The person in question finally tore her gaze from me.

"So that's how you're going to play," said Tosaka.

The girl shrugged, as if playing was the last thing on her mind.

"You can ignore their attacks as long as they do not threaten your lives. Once you've done so, we can withdraw."

I stood in front of Tosaka, hand raised toward the enemy.

"You know I can't let you do that," I said.

"Emiya-kun-!" said the girl behind me.

Saber looked from me to Tosaka rapidly, as if weighing something in her mind.

Illyasviel smiled, and I felt a sharp jolt run down my spine at the chill that I suddenly felt.

"You're free to try and stop an avalanche, nee-san."

Faced with such a threat, I had to think quickly.

I had, under the laws of the War, no obligation to help other Masters.

Or so it seemed to me—it wasn't really spelled out.

But the me of this moment and the me who was Emiya Shirou were not mutually exclusive entities.

We shared the same desires, the same goals, the same ideals.

And the existence that was Emiya Shirou, hero of justice and teenager, decided that Tosaka was someone I had to save.

I closed my eyes.

Behind them I heard the distant slow, rhythmic thump of gears and cogs.

A loud hiss of steam drowned out the rest, and for an instant it seemed like someone screaming.

The sounds were quick to fade away, like some sort of auditory hallucination.

A second later, I'd lowered my hand.

I turned around, looking up into Tosaka's eyes.

It seemed like there was still some disbelief in there, mixed in with fear and curiosity.

I bit my lower lip and glanced at my Servant.

"Saber, please remember our agreement. No innocents."

Realization dawned on the swordswoman quickly as she made a subtle tilt of the head.

It seemed like she approved.

"Emiya-kun?"

Tosaka stared, openmouthed, at the admittedly bizarre sight of a small girl walking around to place an arm around her lower back.

"W-wait, are you trying to feel me up you stup-?"

A thunderous shout overrode her protest.

The giant now moved to following its Master's orders.

"No, Tosaka. Just running from an avalanche."

With a surge of force, I wrapped my smaller arms around Tosaka's waist and pushed forward with reinforced feet.

That plus the terms of the Contract made us sail right over the intersection we'd just passed.

Behind me, I imagined something roaring in anger.

Above me, someone _was_ roaring in anger.

* * *

The night ripens under the drowsy gaze of the moon.

In a sense, it is a night of beginnings and of ends.

A beginning for Shirou, the newest Master in the War.

And an end to the War itself.

The latter's beginnings start here, when Saber's transformed Master fled with another Master in tow.

But even earlier than that, the fates had determined that the War preordained for bloodshed and sacrifice would already be in the throes of dying down.

The blue-clad Lancer serves another through cruelest deception.

The robed Caster has died, consumed by the mutual hatred between Servant and Master, magus against magus.

The Archer communes with himself, the damaged tool pondering its place.

And within the Matou mansion, the shadows stir.

Saber and Berserker begins the end in earnest, breaking the ringing stillness of the night in their second duel.

Unlike before, Saber shows no restraint in her movements.

She is a literal whirlwind, her cloaked steel glancing against Berserker's weapon in a barrage of sound and light.

The beast roars unintelligibly in her face, though she understands its intent well.

It is the call to battle.

She didn't know how her Master managed, but their newfound connection has brought through enough energy to bolster her reserves.

It is a new, intoxicating feeling, to receive so much energy that it threatens to spill out, wasted.

And so, she rallies, using it freely in her attacks, putting full force behind every blow.

The result is a potential for destruction that almost rivals her enemy's.

Each blow gouges out the enemy's skin like a dragon's nail.

For someone like Master as he was to generate such energy!

No matter how much she expends it, her Master continues to send more and more energy through.

It was a marked contrast from the sheer nothing she'd been getting from the start.

Saber suspected her Master had depths hidden from plain sight.

She dodges and ducks, deigning to fully parry those monstrous blows.

Doing so would only unbalance her form.

She flows over and around, the dam against the raging river.

She does as her Master intends.

She will defeat the enemy, or if she cannot then at least it must never fulfill its Master's command to kill Tosaka Rin.

The enemy shall not pass.

She escapes another blow easily, throwing up her weapon to deflect an attack from an unexpected direction.

The second attack connects, and she slams into the wall.

Saber blinks once, shaking off the blood and debris from her eyes and the excruciating pain in her back, realizing what has happened.

The connection was terminated.

Saber is a power tool, suddenly cut off from its source.

She has returned to the previous state.

She struggles to return to battle, raging instincts urging her to move.

But her body is too busy using what was left within her to regenerate her physical frame.

"That's good enough, Berserker. Now come, let's chase after Rin and the naughty nee-san."

"…Wait…!"

She watches the giant hold out its arms to the girl, lifting its small frame onto its shoulders.

And then, with the swiftness of wind, it barrels away, stomping off to pursue her Master.

Saber stoically bears the pain, forcing the sharpness to fade away, hefts her weapon and follows in pursuit.

* * *

I took three long jumps over the streets of night-time Fuyuki before slowing down to shorter leaps.

From those I'd cleared about ten kilometers, reaching the mostly deserted outskirts in record time.

"Put me down you idiot! I can't believe this is happening!"

"Please stop moving, Tosaka. Something bad could happen if you keep struggling like that."

"Don't you think it's facile not to feel even a little freaked out that a little girl in a weird dress is carrying something bigger than her? Try and see it from my perspective, idiot!"

"There's nothing weird at all Tosaka. It's an acceptable turn of events. I needed to get you away from Berserker quickly, since fighting him there would've put you in more danger."

"And exactly where are you taking me?"

"Your house. You're protected there at least, right? And I'll probably stay for a while to keep a look out too."

"My…? Oh god damnit. Wait- stop jumping-! Do you even know where I live, Emiya-kun?"

I paused mid-flight, tilting my head.

"No," I admitted. "Not exactly."

She bopped me right on the head.

"You're going the wrong way then, moron!"

"Oh really?" I murmured, landing on a crouch as I took my bearings while still holding Tosaka up. "…I'm sorry. Where is your home then?"

She jabbed a finger. "In the other direction."

"Oh. Alright then, let's head that way."

"That way leads back to Berserker," she stated like she was declaring the sun had gone down.

"And Saber," I said, worrying about the Servant even if I'd decided to have her stay. "And seeing as she's still fine-"

"How do you know that?" she asked sharply.

I felt her eyes scanning my body.

"Well, there's still no sign of Berserker, and I just have this gut feeling that she's still active."

I adjusted the warmth in my arms, preparing to jump.

_Ba-dump._

"Wha-?"

But in that instant, all my senses screamed at me to get down.

To escape, to flee, to withdraw.

In the space between breaths, there was the phantom feeling of something racing for my neck, my heart, my belly-all my vital organs at once.

I couldn't quantify what it was in that small slice of time.

There was a definite threat that was headed my way, and I couldn't recognize it in time to defend myself.

It was something that wholly threatened the existence of Emiya Shirou (F), so much that the only way to escape was utter self-destruction.

And that was why, with Tosaka in my arms and my legs ready to spring up, I stumbled forward, regressing back into Emiya Shirou (M).

The two of us collapsed in a heap of bodies.

Tosaka uttered a strangled cry.

I quickly looked up and around the lamplit street, trying to ascertain the danger.

It was doubly dangerous now that I'd transformed back, so I had to be sure what kind of threat was here.

"Get off," said Tosaka from under me.

"No, wait, Tosaka," I replied in a whisper, bending my face down closer to the ground. "There's something here that's forced my transformation, and I have to make sure-"

"I am staring at your crown jewels, Emiya-kun, and if the first thing you do isn't getting off from me then the next words you'll be saying will be 'My balls, Tosaka you Gand'd my balls!'."

"Oh, sorry," I said, realizing the position we were in and scrambling off from her.

She looked at the hand I offered in apology, before attempting to crush it with hers and nearly dislocating a shoulder as she stood up.

"Finally… I get a chance to breathe."

She dusted herself off, as I continued to cast about the darkness with my senses.

It felt weird, sensing nothing after experiencing something that so unnerved my other form's senses.

Then again, Emiya Shirou (M) couldn't even be called a magus to begin with.

"Anyway, what's with the sudden change? Don't tell me you ran out of energy to keep up that weird magecraft you used?"

"First of all, it's not magecraft. And second, I was forced to change to avoid a fatal strike that would've killed me. Well, at least there was the feeling of being attacked. I'm trying to see if whoever or whatever it was is still here."

She stiffened, looking around the street as I did.

The street was still devoid of anything of interest.

"I don't sense anything, Emiya-kun," she said after a short while. "Maybe it was just your imagination? You are kind of strung high fighting Berserker to a stand-still just recently. I'm still curious how you managed that, by the way."

I grunted, frowning out into the darkness.

"This is serious, Tosaka. Whatever I felt in that instant was so overpowering that my other self's need for survival trumped everything else, even the thought of protecting you. I was helpless, forced to return even if I personally hated doing it."

I glanced apologetically at her.

Tosaka's face tightened for some reason.

Perhaps the mention of me entertaining the thought of sacrificing her put her off?

Well, that _was_ the truth behind that feeling.

"Oh? 'Other self'? So you've even classified yourself into two… There's a host of things I want to ask but I guess there's no time for an explanation in this kind of situation."

"The fact that there's nothing here is a dangerous thought. We have to get away as fast as we can."

I produced my small fetish and quickly murmured the words of Contract.

When the smoke cleared, I saw Tosaka had gone back to gawking down at me.

I put my hands on my hips.

"That sort of reaction's getting really old, Tosaka. You're a magus aren't you?"

Tosaka murmured something I couldn't hear, putting a finger to her forehead.

In the meantime, I was still keeping an eye out, turning my head from side to side.

Now that I'd transformed back, I was half-expecting that feeling to return.

"I-It's not that… It's- the mere sight of you, a man, transformed into a little girl like some magical girl? Adding the fact that you don't look fazed at all? I mean- you! Standing there! Pouting like someone being told by her mother that she won't be getting that new dress! I should be laughing, Emiya-kun. Or crying. I just can't… find the words."

I have no idea why she's upset like this.

"What we _should _be doing is run."

I held out my hand.

"Ohh no, you are not lugging me around like a bloody sack again."

But she then still snatched my hand, rubbing the back of it.

"I don't see your Command Seals, Shirou. Did your weird magecraft do anything to it?"

"What? Oh… I'm not sure. Does it really matter right now?"

She gave me a withering look.

"It matters as long as you're a Master. If you're still Saber's Master, then it's fine."

I stared at the back of my hand, where the Command Seals had been.

I hadn't noticed before, but they really had disappeared in this form.

"Is there a way to prove that I'm still Saber's Master?"

She rubbed my hand some more, and I had to suppress an inappropriate giggle when her nails scraped against my palm.

"You could try summoning Saber directly to you. It's a piece of minor sorcery granted to Masters of this War that defies many of the world's laws, but it will cost you one third of the Command Seal. Essentially you could order your Servant to do something that would normally be impossible—even by Servant's standards."

I didn't get some of what she said but it sounded like a way to see if I was still Saber's Master.

"Alright. I'll do that."

I turned to empty space, starting to focus.

"What do you—are you seriously using a Seal for that, Emiya-kun? If she gets summoned here won't she be angry you pulled her from doing what you ordered her to do?"

"Berserker's a real monster. I don't need to remind you of that, Tosaka," I said.

I'd fought in some skirmishes in many other places, and I feel that gave me some experience to comfortably declare that Berserker was not a force to be trifled with.

Neither was Saber, if I reckoned it rightly, but she seemed a different danger.

"At least it'll keep Saber safe, and then we can get you safely to your base while I and Saber can regroup and plan out our next fight with Berserker."

"You sound like you don't have faith in your own Servant."

I ignored that sardonic jibe; instead trying to find the right state of mind for whatever it is that was needed to invoke the Command Seal.

Thinking nothing of it, I just went ahead and exclaimed.

"Saber, please come to me!"

The space literally distorted before us, twisting in a mirage-like way.

I felt something pull in my mind, as if a heavy burden was dissipating from it.

After a bright flash of blue light, Saber was there, raising her invisible weapon to bear.

"Master, I thank you. It's good you've re-established the connection."

She took a quick look at Rin, then back at our surroundings.

"I apologize for letting Berserker pass by me, Master," she said, bowing. "And mayhap the shame of failure will soon fade as I have another chance to directly protect you."

She wasn't able to stop him?

Well that was a little expected.

"Did they give any indication as to where they went? Did they retreat perhaps?"

That would be the best outcome for the night.

"No Master. Illyasviel mentioned coming after the two of you."

That meant she and her Servant would be definitely heading this way.

I didn't feel confident about the trail I left in the city.

Who knew if the girl had some sort of dog-tracking magecraft.

And this after we were just about to head that way too.

"Well, at least we know I still have my Command Seal, Tosaka."

"You idiot," she said, her mouth set in a thin line. "You could have proved it with other methods. You didn't have to waste one of your Seals on an experiment."

It was surprising.

Frankly, I thought she'd approve.

Experimentations were supposed to be the way of the magi.

"Well, like I kept saying we have to start moving. Please intercept Berserker if he's close, Saber, while I move on to bring Tosaka to a safer spot. I'll come back to flank him."

"Master, you mustn't."

I don't know why she keeps insisting that.

Did I not look dependable enough?

Was it because I looked like a girl?

Heck, even Saber didn't look like she could fight at first glance.

"Can I just say something?" Tosaka interjected.

I blinked, looking aside from my staring contest with Saber.

"First, you're an idiot."

I slumped my shoulders. "Tosaka-"

"I'm not finished." She pointed at me this time. "You're an idiot too."

"Huh?"

"Are you suggesting that my judgement is faulty, Tosaka Rin?" my servant said icily.

"Not faulty per se. But look at yourselves. You'd be a fine pair to eliminate from the War as you are. Bickering. Disagreeing on a decision. While I can't really say that it's good or bad to let little 'Emiya-chan' here fight by your side, it is almost a waste on the other hand for a Master and a Servant to be at cross-purposes."

I exhaled a sigh.

Rin had a point.

I could see she had a point.

And so because we were still arguing, we were still standing around.

"Saber," I said, turning back to my Servant. "Believe me when I say I can take care of myself. I won't let myself get killed. At the same time I won't let _you _get killed. To do otherwise would be violating my oath. A hero will not let others die. But a hero can't afford to die too, not unless a great sacrifice is needed. If I let myself die, then who will protect the people who need protecting?"

A clinking of armor signaled Saber shifting in place.

After a short silence, she said, "Very well. It is, admittedly, a part of our goals in the War to eliminate enemy Servants. I suppose I cannot fault my Master's… zealousness in that regard. But Master, remember that my concern for your safety is paramount, and is the crux of my oath to you."

"Though to be fair, you could just not confront Berserker now," Tosaka cut in again. "Leave that thing and its child Master alone for the night."

"That would leave you open to Illyasviel's assault," said Saber, disagreeing. "And though we are on different sides of the conflict, I share my Master's desire to see you unharmed, at least for the moment. You were willing to help Shirou on his way as a Master. Your attempts to aid me against Berserker back then was a valorous act worthy of notice. Worthy of repayment."

"It wasn't intended to be 'valorous'…" muttered Tosaka.

"If that's settled," I said, reinforcing my body yet again. "I think it's time for us to move."

"Are you going to carry me again?" asked Tosaka.

"Can you clear twenty meters in a single jump?" I asked in turn.

I was really curious.

Maybe Tosaka knew a spell that could enable her to do that.

But by that look she was giving me, that didn't seem to be true.

I walked up to her.

"Then, please-"

_Ba-dump._

Again?

I took a deep breath, my heart now pounding desperately in my chest.

I seemed to have stumbled, as the next thing I knew Saber had me in her arms while my legs hung loosely below me.

"Master!"

Away away away

What _was_ this feeling?

It was urging me to transform back, again.

It was a fear so primal that I couldn't even rationalize it.

But what was it?

Where was it coming from?

Was it

A person-

-Place-

-Event?

I blinked, sagging into Saber's arms, unable to form the words the two of them were saying to me.

And then I saw another thing that chilled me, though it helped to rally the pieces of my mind together.

A childish part of me remembered the tale of the rabbits on the moon.

How sometimes they were said to descend to the earth from their milky white home on the starry sky.

"Saber."

That thing up there was no rabbit.

I somehow recovered the use of my body.

"Gg…ggghh…"

Yet what I was able to glimpse, perched on its shoulder, certainly would qualify as a cute, white bunny of the moon.

I grabbed Tosaka, and I was forced to bury my face into her abdomen as my legs frantically jumped away to escape.

The explosion that happened half a second later meant I was barely in time.

Something hit the back of my head, and this would-be rabbit saw darkness.

* * *

Devastation.

This is a familiar sight to Saber.

She has almost no way of knowing her Master's fate, save for the faint feeling of their continued connection.

Because at the moment, she is occupied with dancing around the inferno that had once been a quiet street.

She survives, from a combination of her luck and divine protection.

But the rest of her surroundings are not so lucky.

A forest of flames licks at the sky, as if birthed by a dragon newly born into this age.

It consumes within their bowels a score of humans, some of which are still screaming, having woken to a brief, horrifying nightmare of burning flesh.

She forces herself to look forward.

To take a stance against the tragedy's cause.

The giant looms, unharmed, at the center of the impact, the earth formed around it in such a way that it seems a gigantic, unmoving chunk of asteroid.

But its howl, joining the other desperate sounds in the night, announces its identity.

She sees its Master, unharmed as well through some unknown artifice.

"Illyasviel von Einzbern!" she demands with voice of harsh steel. "What have you done?"

A flash of red, and the girl is now turning her gaze on her.

"A deplorable development," said the girl. "And I know the Einzbern must make restitutions for this. But that can wait. Where is Rin, Saber? Produce her, and you and your Master shall live to see another night."

"I don't think so," she says coldly. "By my pride as a hero, I shall never let you and your maddened beast pass, more so for this affront to life itself. Prepare to fall on my blade, monster!"

The girl makes a small _moue_ at that declaration.

"Then let's make this quick." The girl leaps off her protector, standing off in a safe spot in the inferno. "At least this time I can have nee-san all to myself. Berserker, kill Saber first."

It is fortunate that her Master's connection is intact.

The first attack almost shatters her arms and her knees.

* * *

Burning.

Fire.

Fear.

Hate.

I woke to a warm, wet sensation.

A scent swiftly invaded my senses, causing my body to jerk upward.

Blood.

Dying.

I felt something within me creak, like the rusted hinges of an old door.

Don't look don't look don't look don't look

I opened my eyes.

I couldn't even manage a gasp.

"N-N-N…"

Tosaka lay on a patch of debris, blood on her forehead and on her lap.

Her face shone in its repose, bathed in a warm, bright glow.

I wanted to touch her, to sense with my own touch if she was still alive.

To deny the red I saw, the blood I smelled.

Yet I was rooted in place: unable to do even that.

Unable to look away.

It was then that my mind sought an escape.

My view of the world expanded.

And I saw

the return

of the madness

"O…oo…"

I could not form even a single word as I beheld Hell.

For one frantic moment I clenched my fists so hard, the nails biting into my palm until it broke the skin.

I thought I was still trapped in that long ago blaze, and everything had been all a dream.

Don'tlookaway

Because I could see them now, even now.

Souls trapped in the killing fields, the burning fields.

The screams echoing into my consciousness.

The accusing eyes.

Cowardcoward

"Aaa….aaaahh…"

I had to get away.

I had to live!

Leave it all behind.

Father father father

Did I need saving?

Dare I demand to be saved, even now?

Thisisthetimetobehero

I'd long ago vowed, to pay it forward

Forwardllookookforwardforwardforward

What should I do?

The sounds of another explosion made me quail, but when I looked at its source, something roared within me.

Saber and Berserker were there.

Superhuman beings fighting their secret War.

A War that brought Hell.

That had brought the Burning.

And the Fear.

Eliminate the threat.

Who?

Berserker: Primary Threat.

Proceed to neutralize.

Illyasviel von Einzbern and Servant Saber: Secondary Threat

Neutralize after primary or when all other options exhausted.

Something settled within me, like bullets being loaded into the barrel.

I imagined hearing a distant screech of metal upon metal, signaling me to start.

_Become hero._

I let the Contract guide my actions from then on.

It, the midwife of my many steel offspring.

* * *

There is a sudden, hot wave and the girl hides her face from it with a hand.

Her Servant and Saber are dueling titans, dancing the rhythm of death.

The two seemed equal, neither giving nor advancing an inch.

Saber is a tenacious one, and she knows that the Servant has not even unleashed her secret tool yet.

No matter what it is though, her Servant will triumph.

Her Servant is invincible.

She feels a sudden burst of energy near them.

She already has an idea, even before she shifts her attention.

And there, she saw her onee-san, a girl once more, her figure blazing with the unknown magic she could see, but not identify.

She wonders if it is a peculiar sort of Sorcery.

Illya sees a familiar look on her nee-san' face.

It takes the girl a second to figure it out, long enough to watch the girl leap through the flames and aim its steel weapon at Berserker's neck, now apparently teaming up with its servant to attempt to fell her inexorable Servant.

Emiya Shirou looks as if he were Berserker, as if he had received the curse of the role.

A blood-stained, blade-bearing maiden-

She is fascinated as how such a face rivaling hers in outside innocence could ever hold such emotions, could be twisted by such open bloodlust.

It is perhaps a quirk of whatever magecraft had been done.

It is still mesmerizing to witness such an energetic display from the human turned advanced magus.

It is like she has markedly improved since their last bout.

She moves with such speed now that only half of Berserker's blows connected.

What did connect is absorbed by some sort of metallic implement that is then quickly discarded.

The fact that it was able to defend against Berserker's attacks like that would have merited study from more inquisitive magi.

The fact that such things could be projected at all would've attracted the Association like bears to honey.

On the offense, the girl seemed no less potent.

She was even imaginative.

Illya catches glimpses of knives of many different edges, forks with many-numbered prongs, fan-blades, hammers and jag-toothed saws.

Each one scores blood upon her Servant, as if they were fuelled by strong magic, enough to pierce the skin of a legend.

Berserker begins to move farther afield, into the flames.

She watches her Servant continue to lash about wildly, deflecting and attacking two fronts.

"Master! It's too dangerous. You must fall back! Take Rin and go!"

Shirou does not, or maybe can not respond to his Servant.

His silent, twisted rage contrasts Berserker's own.

At this rate, the two of them would delay her purpose long enough for others, unrelated people, to arrive.

It is a complicated situation she found herself in, even if Berserker is far from beaten.

"Gggahh!..."

Shirou's small body lands with a bone-crunching sound after Berserker hit him solidly.

No human should be alive from that blow, but her onee-san somehow manages to stumble right back up.

From there, Illya had the idea that it was enough.

She'd explore her onee-san's weird power some other time.

* * *

It was beyond foolish.

Shirou was indeed holding his own, but there was a limit to a human body that she remembered.

That was partly why a Servant-less Master was of little consequence.

Whatever limits a human could break were aught against an actualized Spirit with a reliable energy source.

Fear's tendrils clenched her heart when she sensed Berserker strike true, finally catching the leaf in the wind.

"Berserker, it's time to go. It's too bad, but we can kill Rin and Saber some other time."

Saber's ears prickled.

The Berserker's Master had announced the end of the battle.

The monster had calmed in the middle of a strike, all combat presence fading to a whisper in a single moment.

Her sword was still bared, neither daring to make a strike nor lowering it.

Berserker was still too formidable.

And then she felt a sense of foreboding.

_What was…?_

She heard the sound of drawn steel.

Glancing over, her suspicions confirmed, she saw a multitude of knives revolving in the air around her risen Master like some cheap trick of Merlin's.

Shirou had turned around, to the girl who'd called out to Berserker right behind him.

Her Master, weapons flashing, slowly advanced at the snow-haired girl.

Saber brandished the weapon she'd let droop as she moved to intercept Berserker's murderous charge.

She chose to trust her Master's intent.

She didn't want to believe he would willingly slay a child, even if it was a Master.

So he was most likely just going to neutralize her to force a calm in Berserker.

Saber would believe in Emiya Shirou's declaration to be a hero.

And that was why she repaid Berserker's desperate fury with her own stubborn strength, bearing the brunt of the blows with resolute determination.

Berserker would not get past, no matter how long or loud he howled.

* * *

"You must never allow the 'You' to lose sight of your 'I'."

To do so, I was taught, would be to become the very thing we were sworn to fight.

Soul-less, irrational entities with little purpose but the one that had lead to that existence in the first place.

It was more dangerous in our sense, for we were gifted by the neutral energies of the Contract with destructive powers.

I had lost my 'I' before.

The first had lasted all of ten seconds, only because the threat had been quickly neutralized, and because my fellows had been there as well to contain me.

Yet still, in that brief amount of time, I'd ravaged the foundations of a building under construction, rendering it structurally unsound.

In a sense, I did not "black out" when I lost myself.

I could still watch, like an angry, disembodied spirit, as my body seemed to be moving of its own volition.

I was thus aware, beyond the seething flames, of all the magecraft I used, each strike and each step.

Each wound.

For a long time I was so focused on the mountain I saw before me, desiring to level it even with my own bare hands.

The pain from the consecutive projections and the bone-smashing blows I could still feel through my makeshift bucklers were forgotten by the outrage I'd felt, at seeing all the bad things I'd wanted to forget all over again.

There was little grace to the "me"'s movements.

No skill or tactics to execute.

Each of my attacks were waves dashing repeatedly against a formidable boulder.

And then in one, brief moment, I slipped, the cunning flash of an exploding piece of debris making me squint.

Berserker was quick on the uptake.

I could swear my lungs had been crushed from that attack.

I couldn't even use projection to cushion my fall.

I couldn't even roll to a stop, or attempt to right myself like a cat.

The force of his blow knocked me away like a piece of minced meat.

killitkillitkillit

Don't be ridiculous, Monster.

In the haze I could almost imagine hearing the creak of metal screeching against each other.

I stood, hardly daring to breathe.

I had to end it.

I have to win!

As if in response to that silent plea, my body shut off the throbbing sensations of pain wracking my body.

It would be enough to keep going, even as I am.

If my magic failed, I'd bite and punch and scratch.

I would even use my bones to strike.

Like a weathered axe I would hack away at my foe until I'd be dust.

"Berserker, it's time to go. It's too bad, but we can kill Rin and Saber some other time."

The voice sounded in my ear, as if it had been whispered right next to it.

Switchswitchswitch

I turned, slowly, and saw the girl only a few steps away, well within striking distance.

Plan B?

Plan B

_Execute_

Two magic circuits erupted with energy.

The resulting product was replicated eleven times.

A halo of knives, ends pointed outward, began their orbit.

With my next breath I was able to pinpoint each of the knife's targets on the girl's body.

Eyes, thighs, knees, chest, elbows, throat, navel, stomach.

My children moved into position.

"…Shirou?"

We can talk later, whoever you are.

I raised my arms.

Right after I fulfill my purpose.

My eyes sought the girl's so I could see a final glimpse of the monster's Master before its demise.

"Shirou... nee-san…?"

Who is…?

"Are you going to kill me, nee-san?"

Kill you? I would never… I'll only kill Berserker and its Master.

"I never thought, since before I met you, that you would be like this, Shirou."

Move! Execute!

"If this is your wish, Shirou, then—"

"_Then I will take on that wish!_"

A distant time

"nee-san—ill—gran—it—"

Red, fire and blood.

Black, fear and despair.

"_Thank God…"_

"Father…"

Hope.

The dreams of those that came before.

The desires of those that inherit them.

The edifice crumbled.

The sound of its ruin echoed across space, across time.

It took me a few moments to realize the scream in my ears was coming from my mouth.

"_Men try…"_

I wrenched my eyes to the present.

"I" returned.

"_-And heroes triumph. Well, that's just my opinion..."_

"Shirou?"

Fire.

A battle raged behind me.

I quickly gave a look, seeing Berserker and Saber.

The battle seemed pointless now, with all that had happened around them.

No one could be saved now.

I could not save them.

But at least I should flee, taking what survivors I can.

And I would engrave those who could not in my heart.

_Ba-dump._

Danger?

Without much thought, I pulled the girl in front of me into a quick embrace, before taking one big leap.

Something warm brushed against my back, carrying with it stray missiles that rebounded from reinforced skin.

We landed quite a ways away, a darkened alleyway lit by a reddish glow.

I could now hear sirens in the night.

I turned around, trusting the girl to the justice of fate, before leaping back into the inferno.

Berserker was no longer there.

Where was Saber?

I looked around frantically, before finding her as she was just rising to her feet.

She was carrying Tosaka on her shoulder.

I felt relief.

It's good she was still alive.

"Saber!"

The swordswoman nodded.

"Let us leave, Master."

"Yeah."

I did not look back.


	2. A Short Girl Shorts Out the War! Part 2

"Well, this is a neat little mess."

She didn't have the gift for understatement. The statement though, however meaningless, still applied to the situation.

Rin was almost reminded of the light from the fireplace—bringing with it the memory of the times spent alone during the coldest nights—as it illuminated the walls of the buildings they walked past. It was interspersed with the occasional light from the many sirens buzzing through the vicinity, their many colors flashing and darting about from roof to roof.

When she'd come to, the first thing she did was contact her Servant. Archer would have most likely begun to worry when she'd gone almost an hour without contacting him remotely.

Although, Rin noted, Archer then didn't at all seem frantic about the dangers his Master had gone through during their communication. Shouldn't she be afforded even one ounce of frenzied concern as his Master? Was that too much to ask?

She had after all, survived ground zero of a gas explosion (undoubtedly ignited by loose energies from Berserker's impact) that seemed to almost rival the Great Fire all those years ago. Saved by the devil's luck from vaporizing in that sudden burst. It was slightly unnerving how the very night Emiya Shirou summoned his Servant, something like this occurred. It would be a potent stain on the arranged War, if it the disaster wasn't already something to write for the history books.

How far would the War escalate at this rate?

She was glad to have survived. Few would begrudge her that self-serving feeling. In some respects, the event _was _a great accident, and if others thought differently, then she could point out that ultimately it was the Einzbern's fault, and all blame should be laid at the girl's feet. The girl would be diabolical if she had intended it (though it was well within the rights of a Master), or negligent if it was not.

And that was why she could not understand how someone like Emiya Shirou (and _there _was a mystery she hadn't cracked yet), who'd briefly mouthed off about being a hero, had went and saved that girl from the blaze, from a mini-explosion no less. It was as if the girl—well he was back to boy—had his own brand of personal justice.

Well, she would not dwell too long on that. She was, after all, still in the presence of a Master-Servant pair, the latter of which could very well renege on its previous words and attack her, finishing Einzbern's job for her.

She looked to her side.

Correction. She was with a Master-Servant pair plus one more Servant, who was perfectly able to kill her now if he wanted to while Archer was still far away recuperating.

Servant Lancer jaunted to her left, face mostly unseen in the dimness.

A few minutes ago, the three of them had been on the rooftop of a building some blocks away from the fire. While she'd conversed with Archer, Master and Servant were having a slight row paces away, their voices raised and gestures aplenty.

Shirou had then returned to his normal form, no longer the nymph in dress and cover-alls. His normal clothes were miraculously free from blood and tear as if he'd never fought or even transformed. (This must be a mystery, thought Rin, glancing surreptitiously at the boy's countenance) With his transformation, Saber had mysteriously relented, her heated disagreement fading into a sort of cold simmer. Shirou had then walked to the rooftop's edge to stare off into the fire, and Rin almost missed the way his hands trembled as they were clenched to his sides.

"Yo, you guys seem to be having fun." Guards were instantly raised, stances were taken and tension returned as the three faced the newcomer, whom Rin instantly recognized as Archer's enemy earlier that night.

_Damn it, now I have to rely on Shirou's protection _again! She hated getting that role tonight. She was a magus for God's sake.

"Hold, hold, I come in peace," Lancer had then said, raising his empty hands. Saber didn't relent, still stepping in front of her Master. A Servant's weapons could be easily summoned for a surprise attack after all.

"What do you want, Lancer?" Rin demanded, forcing her power into the confrontation. If worse came to worst she would have made a quick getaway, utilizing Saber's nature to run interference against the Servant.

"My Master thinks it is of some importance to meet with the two of you, and your Servants of course, tonight," Lancer explained, though Rin sensed a hint of restrained bloodlust in his expression. "He's thus sent me to escort you back to him, for protection—and more obviously to keep an eye on you until the meeting."

"And if we refuse? You cannot honestly believe that we trust your cock-and-bull story?" said Saber, who then took an aggressive step forward.

"Believe me, I would prefer a battle to any sort of parlay, _Saber_," Lancer pronounced. He raised his arms in a motion that made Rin think he'd draw his weapon. "And were it not for the Seal that binds my actions so _completely, _I would have begun this conversation with steel, not words."

"Um…" it was Shirou's turn to speak. "Who's your Master then? Can you tell us why he wants to talk?" You idiot, Emiya.

Lancer chose to humor the boy, however, despite his naïve question. "I am not bound by the Seal to _not _say thus, but my honor demands I don't entertain that question, boy. But you will be meeting him soon enough, so that concern is moot." Lancer lowered his arms. "Will you come?"

"What happens if we decide not to?" asked Rin. The "We" she'd added in that question only applied to herself and Archer, though Shirou and Saber didn't seem to pick up on the presumption and so went along as if "we" applied to them too.

Lancer shrugged. "Then alas, I would return, my objective unfulfilled, ready to face the wrath of my Master." The way he said it made Rin think it wasn't that bad an alternative to the Servant.

Rin had then made a show of thinking, looking from Lancer to Saber with weapon still bared and then to Shirou, who was also looking at her with a silent question in his eyes.

_What do we do?_ The look seemed to say.

Unbelievable.

Shirou seemed to have latched on to her as if she were a friend, or a guide-dog, perhaps trusting in her judgement more than his own (or Saber's). Pity she couldn't take advantage of his misguided trust in that circumstance. But then again, Emiya Shirou was that kind of person from the outset.

And so Rin blew out a sigh, turning back to Lancer and nodding. "We'll follow—cautiously. If something bad happens, know that Archer is watching from somewhere." A blatant bluff, though she figured it would only make Saber more cautious and possibly make Lancer take it up as an outright challenge.

Rin accepted Lancer's proposal, but already planning how to slip away towards the end. There was more than the certainty that it might be a trap. Better the magically cross-dressing boy and his Servant deal with whatever it was than her.

"Oh is he now? I so want to repay that man for tonight, but for this Seal…" said Lancer, wringing his hands. "Well, if there're no more objections, then let's be off." Saber, after a conversation of eyes with her Master, glanced at Rin with an appraising eye before she breathed once and followed, keeping her alert body fixed between Lancer and her Master.

Rin wondered if Lancer's Master wanted some sort of alliance, so early in the War. But for what reason, if that were so? Had he been watching while they'd fought with Berserker? Or perhaps Lancer had been made to watch, and he'd seen Shirou in action? Perhaps he was a mage interested in exotic magecraft such as Shirou's, a magecraft she admittedly wanted to study under less demanding circumstances.

The four had been silent all throughout, though Rin kept an active eye on the desolate surroundings. They passed through empty side-streets, averting the panicked bustle of a city rudely awakened by a disaster. She wondered if Kirei would have his hands full tonight. She hoped so.

* * *

In the stifling silence of the church, the Grail War's mediator bows in a manner befitting the virtue of humility. "I apologize for leaving you so early, honored guest. I hope the night, and the city treats you well. If you are up to it, we may speak in the morning, after the dawn Mass." Seemingly in no hurry, the priest leaves the sanctity of the church through the creaking doors and out into the cold night.

The girl bows in return, and does not raise her head until the sounds of the priest's footsteps fade. She hesitates, looking around the church with a polite curiosity, before walking around to the end of a pew and sitting down.

She adjusts her traveling sweater, drawing the hood closer to her head and inserting her hands inside the pockets. She seems to take one last look around, the light from the many jeweled ornaments reflecting off the floor and stained-glass windows glinting in her spectacled eyes, before shrugging and letting her chin drop to her chest.

A minute later, she is asleep. An aura of insubstantiality settles upon her, as if another person arriving would entirely miss her presence unless they stood right next to her.

Although one does not.

Piercing red eyes observe the girl for a long while from the hidden recesses of the church. The presence quickly withdraws, and if the girl senses this, she gives no indication other than a shift in her seat.

* * *

With a single gesture from Matou Zouken, the shadows move to follow.

An undetermined amount of time ago, his Servant returned from its reconnaissance, bringing with it tidings of a stimulating nature.

He has no desire to even punish the Servant for revealing it almost tried to kill the curiosity that makes even the worms of his body drool in hunger.

For, after all, if Assassin were speaking the truth (and he knows the Servant would not dare lie), a being with almost limitless energy was once again within his grasp.

To put it in contemporary terms, it was a long-lasting, self-recharging battery. Described to be a powerful, inexhaustible source of energy, and a rarity to glimpse even in the hallowed circles of every Mystic that had ever lived.

For most it was a mystery that wasn't, strictly speaking, a mystery.

It would not even be classified as a Sorcery, it is repeatedly postulated, if there was more time to study it.

Zouken had only encountered such beings twice in his life: the first in a brief encounter before his family had come to this blasted land, the second after the Third War, from whom he'd had a brief taste of its power before its escape.

That brief taste was greater than any mind-affecting drug he'd tried before and after.

And now, another similar being had reappeared, and he was not about to squander an opportunity like an undisciplined magus.

The creature's identity was of no consequence: neither was its status as an enemy Master nor its observed combat capabilities.

All would be for naught once his worms were within striking distance.

A moon-like mask forms in the darkness.

"Master… one kilometer away… with Saber… and Lancer…"

Assassin spoke haltingly, in the manner of a retarded child.

So close? But if it had two Servants along—

Ah.

His brief stint of incompetence was squashed when he remembered he had his own two Servants to call upon.

Should he risk it?

The Rider flanks the Saber.

A Lancer unseats the Rider.

The Assassin finishes off whatever is left.

Yet still, he guessed he would be at a slight disadvantage.

But the goal to be gained far outweighed the risk, in his eyes.

He'd get several months to study the specimen, then several more to determine practical applications of utilizing its energy.

He would be then able to wait out several more Grail Wars, or even accomplish the Third Magic by himself if the endless font was at his side.

As long as no other Servant intervened, he would succeed, especially if he had surprise on his side.

He praises himself for the remarkable foresight in summoning a Servant-with fate rewarding him with a veritable wonder.

The shadows stirred.

Having decided, Zouken sent the worms on their way.

Ultimately, the Servants would only be his cat's paws.

The thing that was "Emiya Shirou" was the true prize.

* * *

She had smelled of smoke and sweat and the quiet mountainside at dawn.

Her hands had been smooth as sandpaper, if sandpaper could ever be smooth.

The feel of her heart, beating so close to hers, had radiated a comforting heat, markedly different from the flames, that soothed her in that brief moment of contact.

Illya should hate her for being who she was.

She'd been made to hate what she symbolized: misery, pain and the biting cold of desertion.

Yet she finds that, more than anything, the girl/boy tantalizes her.

She is like a precious gift for which no price on earth could ever purchase- something hopelessly beyond her reach.

And for that, the girl wishes to possess it, more than anything.

She brushes ash from her forehead, feeling as if the fire has tainted her with a curse more agonizing than hate.

Desire.

Perhaps the soul she has interred is to blame, affecting her decisions far more than was expected.

"Berserker."

The giant materializes behind her, eclipsing the moon.

"We shall not return yet. The night has not yet ended."

She stands, a little white sprite ruminating at the roots of a tree more twisted and robust than the nearby trees.

She has a feeling the night was not through dispensing its treacheries.

* * *

A flash of red flits through the darkness.

For a while, the figure pauses before the defiant flames.

It summons a nemesis long conquered.

It uncurls from deep sleep, like the smoke that ascends, unseen, into the sky.

His gaze pierces through it.

He is held, like the snake before the charmer.

Then the ghost of a self-satisfied smile flits across his face.

It holds no power over him.

And like that impotent pillar, the nemesis flees from his will.

Satisfied, the shade turns and flies.

* * *

Unquestionably, the night belongs to the dark.

Far above, the canopy sees into the truth of the universe: the all-encompassing darkness that sweeps through creation.

It is in the night, and the darkness, that "it" finds solace, where it can revel unseen in obscurity. For it hid things: terrible things, disgusting, wretched things, the pallid writhing truths that dwelt in its inglorious self.

There is a stifling sort of eternity before its master calls for it.

It slithers deeper into the dark, as if doing so would make it forget the joy of light.

* * *

And so, during the time of night when the dark was purest, another battle was joined.

This would be the last battle.

There was no glory or honor to be gained, riches to collect, nor titles to lay claim to.

This is the War of the Holy Grail, where the language was death and the population would ultimately only be one.

It began with an earnest question from one Emiya Shirou.

"Oh, is that your Master, Lancer? Are we here?"

Rin was too paralyzed by the heat of the moment to care to blow up at the boy, while Lancer had his silent back to the rest of them with stance lowering, and Saber had already rushed forward in a clamor of greaves to deflect the first missile and so were too busy to even give an answer to the negative.

The Tosaka magus whipped her arm up, finding herself tensing right back into battle. A loud clanking of chains echoed about in the empty causeway, though Rin couldn't see its source yet.

Shirou, realizing the truth a second later, has also squared his shoulders. "So it's not? Shit!"

The first thought in the group's mind, excluding Lancer's, is that the latter _had _been leading them to a trap. But just as Saber had it in her to lop of the blue knight's head after repelling that first thrown weapon, a chain-held nail shoots out of the darkness. Lancer jumped aside, spear at the ready, as the chain-and-weapon was quickly withdrawn.

"Damn," the Servant said under his breath. He nodded at the darkness, as if he were able to peer at those who were hiding in it. "So you intend to fight? Please say yes so this boring command becomes a bit livelier." In answer, there was a sound of more chains rustling.

Saber had a mind to assist Lancer, but then quickly moved left when her senses caught a tell-tale movement in the shadows, barely missing the brief flare of murderous presence.

It appeared there were two.

"Emiya-kun?"

Saber did not turn to look, but thought she knew what her Master might be doing.

"Master, please watch yourself and Rin. Don't interfere here until you see an opening."

"What's wrong with fighting now? I can do it!"

"This is not your battle, Master! Please stop attempting to take my duty from me!" Saber barked sharply. "I almost lost you to Berserker in the conflagration. We must ensure the situation is clearer and therefore safer for you before you may charge ahead. Please understand."

The battle would not allow for another argument to occur right then, as three black blades whooshed through the air, all three aimed for Shirou. Saber blocked the assault with ease, and then faced the general direction of the weapons' source where the enemy Servant must be.

"I see… Servant Assassin," Saber said, bringing the invisible sword to a ready stance. "I recognize your murderous air. Only a spirit of your class would feel this insipid as a heroic shade."

Something moaned from the darkness, an inarticulate reply like the babbling of a babe. "Fine. Keep to your shadows, Assassin. I shall flush you out into the light." Saber hesitated, looking over to where Lancer too had disappeared into the other side of the shadowy alley, where the clash of steel and the sound of rustling chains had intensified. She gripped the handle of her sword tighter, concern paramount for her Master.

The sounds of chains suddenly grew louder, seeming so close now, which made Saber set her feet, backing close to her Master. She scanned the distance from them to Rin, who was still standing a respectable few paces away. Like a metallic rattlesnake the clamor continued, echoing all around the group as if it were surrounding them all.

The attack came, lunging with lightning speed, though not where Saber expected it to be. With the senses of a heroic entity, Saber watched the attack spring from behind Rin, a long nail-like weapon, and knew she'd be too late to intervene-as a forward charge would be itself impeded by Rin's body.

She tried anyway, pushing past Shirou and lowering close to the ground in a sprint.

It was too late.

Shirou's and Saber's wore identical distressed expressions when the weapon struck flesh, the sound of fatal impact clear.

But then, not a split-second later, the group saw the more acceptable truth.

Servant Archer, the knight in red, now stood in front of Rin with arm raised, the nail having struck into his forearm. Looking not the least hurt, something flashed white in Archer's hands and then the chain was cut.

The Servant pulled the offending nail free, using a kerchief he'd gotten from out of nowhere to wipe the blood from it, before tossing it aside, where it landed with a clatter. Archer, hawk-like eyes alert, said, "Rin. I thought I said not to take unnecessary actions. _This _is so unlike you after all—walking open-eyed into such a transparent trap."

Rin opened and closed her mouth in silence to that, as if her Servant's well-timed intervention had literally blown the words from her mouth. Then she schooled her expression, having decided on a proper response. "What are you doing here, Archer? I thought I told you to stay back and recover! This is a dangerous situation if you must know."

Archer raised his eyebrows, fully turning around to regard his Master. "I agree. My Master, caught flat-footed in the presence of several other Servants, and the Servant himself, still feeling the after-effects of a not insignificant wound." His eyes flickered, barely imperceptibly, to Saber. "This is indeed a dangerous situation for us to be in. It almost makes one want to… retreat." And with that, Archer lifted her Master up, in a manner quite different from how Shirou had done.

"Hey, wait! What are you—ugh! People should really not just carry other people so suddenly like that on a whim! You're as bad as Shirou! Put me down! Do you hear me Archer?! Put me-"

"My thanks, Saber-" He regarded the swordswoman, then her Master, inclining his head. "-Emiya Shirou. But for now, I must attend to my Master's survival foremost. I hope you understand. But you have my word that I will follow whatever Master decides afterwards—in case you survive."

"—Don't make me make another Command—" And with that, the red knight leapt high into the sky, indignant magus in tow. The night quickly swallowed the two.

Only Shirou could look up after their figures as they departed, for Saber was already set to defending her Master from the threat still there.

"Identify yourself!" she demanded. "Are you Servant Caster? Or Servant Rider? Are you in league with the Assassin?"

The enemy is as wordless as Assassin. Moments pass in tense silence as Saber keeps close, waiting for the tell-tale sounds of its chains.

"It's no good Saber," Lancer remarked, and the Servant now faced the approaching blue-clad knight warily. "That worthless Assassin left too. I couldn't even get a proper fight in. Maybe they were just testing our strengths for tonight."

"Perhaps."

"Maybe their Masters made some sort of alliance. It kind of figures: the two don't seem all that powerful by themselves."

"Ill-formed… assessment…" The words alerted them too late, or so it seemed. Something long and blood-red bounded from the darkness. Lancer cursed, brandishing his spear to prepare a counter-assault while Saber moved to intercept whatever it was from reaching her Master.

There was a clash of keening metal that blinded Shirou momentarily, and then the sound of flesh being torn. In the darkness, something screeched, as if a cave full of bats had been riled.

"What…?" said Shirou.

"Wha'd I tell ya? Worthless. Can't even kill with the element of surprise."

By Saber's estimation, though, that surprise attack had been almost too close for comfort. She recognized the malice behind the attack as some form of dark magic. She had a feeling the attack, like even the simplest unguarded sword-stroke, would have been fatal had she not blocked it with her sword.

"Hm?" The two Servants abruptly stiffened next, as if sensing something Shirou hadn't (which he didn't).

And then from out of the black, a light shining brighter than the sun erupted, carrying with it a potent menace. Shirou threw up a hand to shield his eyes even as he felt something grab the front of his shirt.

A wave of power and magical energy surged forward, its sight set on the three. Shirou, as he was, could only blink.

* * *

"All we should do, and what I would strongly advise we do, is watch," said Archer, he and his Master now safely established upon a perch a mile from the ambush site.

"We have to go back. We can't just let them die." The two had begun this conversation as soon as Archer had put them down.

"Rin, they're enemies. Strictly speaking, we should only care if perhaps someone strong is trying to eliminate something weak, so we can improve our chances by teaming up to eliminate the former and then afterwards the latter." Archer watched as intense light suddenly filled the area he was watching. Rin could share his enhanced sight, though he and his Master focused on different things.

"What is…?"

"Someone's treasured tool no doubt. That's too much magical energy than a normal magus can throw around so easily. He looked at his Master, who was also staring that way. "Why does this matter so much? What can Saber and the boy offer us before we have to eliminate them?"

Rin crossed her arms in a stubborn manner, biting her lower lip absently. "I can't let _him _die after I've saved him just recently. I also can't let a curious magecraft like his die without proper examination."

"Curious magecraft?" the white-haired Archer wondered, inviting his Master to elaborate after turning again to watch Rider's lightshow.

"It may not sound surprising—you being a hero and all—but Emiya Shirou turned out to have a minor sorcery at his disposal that gives him Servant-like abilities, Archer. In fact—" Rin rubbed her forehead, as if finally remembering something important. "—he managed to go toe to toe with _Berserker_ Archer. That monster—"

"Unfortunately, as I haven't encountered that Servant, I shall have to take your word upon the subject of Berserker's strength." A light glittered in Archer's pupils. "But you're surprised, Rin? You seem to hardly know the boy. He probably has depths that you missed—he is a magus after all."

"But that's the thing. I _know _Emiya Shirou." She paused, as if the statement struck her, before she flushed briefly. "Well, not _intimately_, but _I _can tell what sort of threat a person can be, and over the years that I knew him, Emiya-kun didn't exhibit any indication of what he was able to do here. I mean, magecraft is the sort of thing I'm supposed to watch out for. Whatever arts he had been doing should've been small and insignificant that I couldn't sense it, and using a sorcery to gain abilities like that isn't anything minor at all. He turned into a _girl_, Archer. As far as I know, a magecraft like that shouldn't exist."

"But it might," Archer said shortly, his eyes closing his thought. A moment later, he sighed, steering his head from the direction of the battle. "But to me, this sounds like Emiya Shirou might be more a threat than he seems."

"We are _not _eliminating him," Rin said with an air of finality. "Unless he ends up getting killed down there, or I find out later on his art's just something mundane." Though the girl had a thought that it wasn't anything mundane, not at all.

"So you intend to study him, as long as he is amenable. As expected of a magus. I shall work to ensure your temporary decision does not harm you beforehand."

"Did you expect anything else, Archer? I went into this war willingly with the mindset of one." Rin raised a finger. "If anything, you should work to eliminate his Servant. With her out of the way, I can capture Emiya-kun for myself. For further research, of course."

Archer smirked to that, though ventured nothing in reply. Freed from the conversation, the Servant's thoughts drifted. A part of him lost itself to that thread of thought, making him unaware of what he said next.

"What was that Archer?"

"Hm?" The Servant blinked.

"What did you mean by that?"

"By what?"

"What you just said," Rin said with some asperity.

"What…did I say… out loud?" The Servant hesitated uncertainly, turning to regard Rin.

"'—it's earlier for him here'. What does that mean? Early for whom? Emiya-kun?"

Archer shook his head. "No. To me, it's too early for me." he amended. "I am but a tool, Master, and in my thoughts I tend to refer to myself as a mere object, in third-person. I sometimes forget that when I think out loud. I meant that it's still too early for me for any interventions of any sort. The most I can do are two or three strong attacks before I have to recuperate again."

"Oh," and Rin fell silent, perhaps to think through what her Archer had just revealed.

The sound of a distant, thunderous crash reached their ears, and Archer quickly focused his sight on the source. The light of a giant, luminous firefly floated up into the sky.

* * *

It was a splendid display of magical might.

That such a thing overtook Lancer and Saber in sheer speed was one thing; that it carried a definite threat of mortal doom if it had hit them was another that forced the two Servants to separate.

Thankfully, while in that form, Rider seemed not to sense where Saber had hidden her Master—after urging him to ride out the clearly dangerous attacks for a while and to call on her once more should he be attacked—before re-engaging. Rider indeed moved with purpose, but it was sticking true to the edicts of the War: Servant against Servant, legend against legend.

And while each of the two had received their fair share of attentions from the blazing summoned creature, Saber was sure the silent, long-haired Rider was focusing its attacks on her.

Saber did a running jump, and at the apex used a free hand to grab hold of a protruding banner-holder and kicked upward to somersault onto the roof. Just then, Rider passed under her, narrowly missing her by inches.

There was one thing she noted of the enemy's treasured tool: it was fast, true, but it adhered partly to the rules of the world. Every charge couldn't be stopped midway: like a true steed it had to stop, pause and turn to adjust its trajectory, particularly after missing its target.

As long as they held the battle in this part of the city, with its many obstacles and turns and corners and heights, Saber could hide and evade from Rider's vicious charges again and again.

Saber ran up and jumped from the roof onto a narrow alley, crossing over through several intersections as a violent flash of light in front of her indicated Rider barreling through a street up ahead. The distant shouts of a cursing man signaled to Saber that Lancer was still in the battle.

Still, she had a feeling this battle would end up being a stalemate until Rider stopped from exhaustion or an order to withdraw from its Master. She couldn't unleash her own treasured tool, which she felt would match or maybe exceed Rider's own. The clash would also rival Berserker's rampage that had caused the conflagration, something she did not want to repeat. In any case, she was still conserving her energy while Shirou had yet to transform and reinforce their connection.

A strong breeze ruffled the back of her hair, and Saber didn't waste time turning around. Her small body agilely bounded from wall to wall, her feet finding enough of a ledge to step on before instantly leaping up to the next. Only when she had reached the rooftop again did she look down, and then, eyes widening, immediately leap backward several meters with superhuman celerity.

A white geyser erupted upward, and Saber gritted her teeth as her gaze followed the thing's flight up.

So it wasn't entirely land-based.

"Yes, Saber," Rider cold voice resounded for the first time. The summoned creature flapped idly, its wings carrying its bulk and its master impossibly by some feat of magic. "'Tis a _winged_ steed I have mastered."

"Do you think that is enough to give me pause, Rider?" Saber proclaimed. "I have slain winged beasts greater than yours in my time."

"In your time… yes. The times after mine, and after yours, have greatly degenerated the blood of creatures such as these, Saber. But the miracle of the Summoning returns their grave splendor to the world, their might undiminished. Isn't that why you hid from my charge? Your instincts could not lie to you. My tool would have left nothing of you if I had run you down."

"Rubbish," she said. "You could never run me down." In Saber's mind, a decision settled into place. She was at least thankful Rider had brought the fighting to a more open area, where there would be less onlookers and innocent bystanders. The wind began to swirl around her invisible blade.

"Your ally has fled, and I will attend to your Master after your demise. I don't know where that confidence is coming from, but unless you wield a power greater than a beast from the Age of Gods, then your fate is to be dust." Saber watched Rider wheel her steed about, a giant, mobile star on the verge of another ominous charge. Energy coursed through the sky as Rider began charging up an attack.

"We shall see." And Saber answered the challenge, a burst of magic exploding from her weapon. A light, golden and pure, began winking from within the veil of cutting air.

Even Rider should have started to become aware of the power she was about to unleash. It was risky to her reserves, but it was also her only recourse now that she was completely open to Rider's attacks.

And Rider's next attack did not take long to come, charging forward in an explosion of brilliance as she was still in the latter stages of unveiling her weapon.

Warmth filled Saber's hands as she poured all she could spare into her attack.

With this, victory would be within her grasp-!

A sun flared to answer the heavenly light.

In the midst of the storm of pure, destructive magic, Saber announced her sword's name.

"Ex-!"

* * *

Rider saw it first. Unlike Saber, she had the advantage of an overhead view of the battlefield.

She pulled up just in time, right as her attack would collide against whatever Saber was about to use—and whatever unknown it was that had screamed at her instincts to pull back.

A booming crack of thunder echoed across the night, sending a shower of debris everywhere.

She didn't know what would have happened if she'd followed through.

Would she be ground meat, as Saber surely must be now?

Rider goaded her tool upward, peering down through the erupted smoke at the meteor that had disrupted her plunge.

* * *

Saber couldn't believe her eyes.

"Ber…serker…?"

The giant loomed over her as ever, crazed gaze fixed on hers. At the last second, well-honed battle intuition had told her to jump away, and when she did, the strain of unleashing Excalibur disappeared, as she'd been unable to unleash its power. The upset slabs of concrete missed her by many inches, having been thrown up by Berserker's sudden crash.

Perhaps following that fool Lancer's proposal had been ill-thought after all. Of course Berserker wouldn't have been let off its leash for the night; the little Einzbern's malice had been clear.

"You're certainly inept in some ways, huh Saber?" said the girl in question, now revealed to be perched on her Servant's shoulder after some more smoke dissipated. Her sharp red eyes seemed to be mildly amused, mixed in with a hint of something Saber couldn't identify. "Or perhaps nee-san is more to blame."

She glared at the girl with naked hostility. "Illyasviel. What—"

"Saber. You do realize you've lost sight of two Servants yes? Two Servants unaccounted for, along with your Master who is the most vulnerable separated from you. You can't honestly think stealing one of my Berserker's lives is enough to make a Master capable against a Servant. Especially if it's maybe against _two_."

"But he's-" she tried to gain a sense of their connection. It was still there, the familiar rush of energy replenishing—

The connection had been strengthened.

Her Master had transformed.

Eyes widening in realization, Saber glanced over to where she'd bidden Shirou hide. Her gauntlets tightened around her weapon. The connection was still there, but…

A flicker of light caught her attention, and she saw Rider shoot towards the direction of Shirou.

"Master!" A clatter of steel presaged the knight leaping into the dark, hoping that she wasn't too late.

Illyasviel stared after her, twirling a lock of her hair absent-mindedly. She looked down at the mess Saber, Berserker and Rider had made.

"It'll be alright, Saber," she murmured. "Nee-san is strong."

_Nee-san is strong_, she repeated in her mind, a nonsense chant she'd entirely made up at that moment.

* * *

A loud, keening sound was followed by another thrown weapon, and yet again that thing melted into the shadows.

It was easy enough for me to avoid them, and though I wanted to stop and destroy the weapons, there seemed to be more where they came from, and I had to go pursue the enemy before it got away.

The moment I clapped my eyes on that white skull, something inside of me rose to life, like some sort of sudden desire that a kid feels for a new toy.

Of course, I recognized that feeling.

It was a necessary, ingrained part of accepting the Contract.

I would be drawn to sensing the essence of a person I would see, forced to recognize it as something unnatural.

Forced to use all in my power to eliminate it.

It wasn't that bad of a coercion as someone explained to me.

Everything we would be reacting to was undoubtedly something that actually needed to be fought and, if possible, destroyed.

A villain for each hero.

As such, I immediately transformed and set to hunting the thing.

I wasn't sure if I could succeed—solo—but it was my duty.

The thing was so slippery though.

I traced a big, metal club, thicker than a baseball bat yet just as light after removing the unnecessary elements of composition.

It would serve to bludgeon that thing's mask.

If I could reach it.

Whoosh came several more black daggers, and without thinking the weapon rose and arced in a swing.

Huh. Looks like it's also useful to deflect missiles.

But this was going nowhere.

"I can throw knives too!"

Four knives sprung free from my hands, each going wild and disappearing into the night.

I wasn't very confident in aiming, especially in throwing things with just my bare hands, under poor visibility, and against an agile enemy.

But like most things in my life, I had to try.

Missile for missile.

Kitchen knife against whatever the heck it was using.

I leaped up, skimming against the darkened surface of a large commercial banner before lunging forward in a downward slam of the club.

I caught the sound of a hiss as the thing skittered away, leading to yet another exchange of knives.

Tsk. If I'm going to match it I have to at least have knives ready.

But projecting has a time requirement to it, like most spells by my reckoning; and that small difference makes the thing's missiles come out earlier than I could throw.

The far-off sound of several explosions reached my ears, and I paused, wondering if I should investigate.

It wouldn't do for a repeat of the—

Forgetit!

I shook my head.

Right. There's an enemy in front of—

_Ba-dump!_

"Oh no you don't," I muttered, pushing away the instinct to flee and/or transform.

I tensed, narrowing my eyes before instantly turning around and throwing my club.

A loud, satisfying thunk signaled that I had hit a home run at last.

The thing squealed in what seemed like agony, as it clutched a hand to its mask.

Did I crack it?

"_**Assassin! Return, now**__!_"

"What?" Who was that?

I looked around, and then caught the thing as it scuttled away.

"Stop! I'm not finished!"

I bounded after it quickly, throwing several more knives in pursuit.

At the rate I was throwing them I'd probably run out of usable reserves.

You are not getting away.

I won't let you.

My oath demands it!

The thing finally stopped, its black body still convulsing, as it jumped up to take a perch on a protruding piece of masonry like a black, malformed cat.

I looked around, recognizing we had gone back to square one: the place where we'd been ambushed.

There was no sight of Saber or Lancer or that mystery Servant.

I readied myself, loading the weapons in my mind.

"Hm?"

_Ba-dump._

There was that feeling again.

I transformed back quickly, gritting through the pain to ascertain if it went away.

Even then, the bad feeling continued.

I hastily transformed back, my nerves and muscles now definitely throbbing from the sudden, consecutive changes.

Taking another look around, there really seemed to be nothing wrong…

Wait, what was that sound?

It was like the sound a dishwashing scrub makes when it's squeezed.

It was faint, but it was strange hearing it out here all of a sudden.

The bad feeling didn't seem to be going away, so I set my shoulders and glared at the enemy, still perched like a giant, mutated crow.

"I hope you're ready. I, Emiya Shirou, the hero, will eliminate you."

"Ke… ke… ke…"

Was it laughing?

It wouldn't do if there was a trap prepared.

Forming needles as large as my femur, I hurled them at the thing.

All hit their mark, burying into its pitch black cloak like it was cloth.

"**Well done, Assassin. You may withdraw.**"

The thing tensed and leaped like a frog, causing me to turn after it.

It could still move after being impaled like that?

I knew I should've used something more effective.

But when I made to follow, I found that I couldn't move.

What…

"…the hell…?" A strange black miasma was pooling around my feet, holding them to the ground like quicksand.

No matter how much I strained my knees, my feet wouldn't budge.

"Damned trap."

How could I have missed sensing this?

"**Indeed. A lovely little trap for a valuable specimen such as yourself. Now, there is no need to panic, my dear. I will take good care of you.**"

"Who are you?"

The strange sound had doubled in volume.

It was like I was surrounded by it.

I could see something warping the darkness around me, but I couldn't be sure of it.

The bad feeling intensified.

"Damn, damn, damn!"

I projected a large shovel, honed to carve out the ground. I began methodically hacking away around the darkness.

Though was it my imagination, or was the strange mud expanding?

It was then that I realized the odd sounds had gone louder, as if its source was practically near my ear.

And then when I looked up, my heart plummeted downward and my mouth widening enough to accommodate an apple.

"Shit."

* * *

Archer made a humming sound, which caused Rin to look from the lightshow to her Servant. "Something on your mind Archer?"

"Rin, there is something I have to do."

"Watch, right?"

A thin smile crept on the red knight's face before he shook his head.

"No. I have to bind your senses."

"What? Why?" Rin started and took one step backward, as if Archer had just appeared before her eyes. "What would make you dare say something like that?"

"Because there is something I might need to do which relies on you not knowing things that would cause me to kill you… well—" he gave Rin a harsh, determined look. "There are things a Servant, despite promises to the contrary, may need to hide from its Master. And this is something the world would particularly care to keep hidden."

"The world…?" Rin mouthed doubtfully. "Well… has it got anything to do with their fighting over there?"

"Yes and no." At Rin's confused expression, Archer drew his gaze away, shaking his head slowly as if he were arguing with himself. "It doesn't matter. Please just trust me, Rin. I won't even be leaving your side. You just need to not see, nor hear, nor smell nor feel for a short amount of time." When Rin glanced at her arm, Archer continued, "And if you were to use a Command Spell, then I would do everything in my power to circumvent it. And the end would involve me hurting you. Please don't make me hurt you Rin."

Rin breathed a sigh, mulling over the sudden request. "For how long?"

"Well… it won't start until I can see the signal to." Archer snorted. "Perhaps I won't even need to. But I can see that the possibility leans closer to necessitating my action. So when that signal comes, would you mind having your senses bound, Rin?"

A loud explosion caught their attention; something was happening at another rooftop, far away.

Rin glanced back briefly at her Servant, scrutinizing him appraisingly before finally nodding in acquiescence. "Alright. Just…no funny business, alright?"

"I swear, Rin."

A short silence. "Sheesh. You're almost as bad as Emiya-kun. You men and your secrets."

His eyes glittered with faint amusement. "Hmph. Please don't joke about things like that, Rin."

* * *

The whole area was dark.

It had been dark once, lit only by the distantly spaced night lights of this part of Fuyuki, but to Saber it seemed it had gone completely dark, as if all light had been swallowed around that area.

Shirou must be involved with this. He wasn't at his supposed hiding place and this was an anomaly that had just now come up.

"Master!" she shouted, peering about through the dark. "Master!"

"It is done." The light, once the glare from an enemy, now seemed salvation. With it the dark was banished, leaving only one portion that resisted its spread.

A writhing, gurgling black that sent shivers even down the swordswoman's spine.

"Master!" Saber hefted her sword and charged. She didn't really think—but there was the biggest possibility—

A loud, braying sound, made Saber halt, avoiding Rider's charge. She glared at the impediment.

"I can't let you do that," said the Servant, turning around in the air for another dive.

"Then you shall be the blood on this holy blade." Without hesitation, golden light joined the illumination on the area, and a small whirlwind ravaged the space around Saber. She had sensed no inhabitants here, now that she checked, which was strange for any part of the city. Where did all the people go?

"Are you really willing to risk your Master's life with an attack like that?" asked Rider. "If I let our tools clash, not even he would be spared from the result."

"So my Master is indeed there?" She regarded the pulsating void coolly. She had no time to woolgather. "I thank you, Rider."

"Kee! Kee!"

The sound made Saber whirl and she now beheld the darker shape of the assassin, hanging bat-like from a rooftop.

Two enemies at once. This would be tricky.

"Before… her… I… kill you… eat… you…!"

Saber could feel Rider coming. She prepared to face her first.

But Assassin struck.

"Keeeeeehh!"

Damn it all. Excalibur couldn't strike two separate points simultaneously. She would trust whatever remained of her luck as she focused fully on Rider's inexorable charge.

"Excalibur!"

"Gae Bolg!"

An outpouring of light blinded all who looked in that instant onrush of gold and white coalescing into one single, monochromatic shade. In the end of that instant, the light slowly receding against the unending murk of night, Saber stood, holy sword blazing before her. She looked up and saw Rider clinging to a side of the wall that hadn't been blown away, bleeding from her arm but otherwise uninjured.

"I have defeated you. If you had not dodged in that one instant, I would have destroyed you."

"You haven't defeated me. I'm still whole, Saber. My tool was beaten, yes, but I live yet."

"Well, this one isn't."

Saber now spared a glance behind her, where Lancer stood, eyes regarding the sight of Assassin impaled straight through its chest with his red missile.

"I think I kind of recognize the magic in your arm," Lancer remarked, as if commenting on the state of the weather. "Whatever it was, though, it's still your loss, little Assassin."

"Gehhhh… Kkkkggggaaaahh!" Assassin's death rattle was a terrible thing, but to the Servants present, it was but one more dying protestation. Slowly, but surely, the masked thing dissipated, until all that was left was the spear embedded into the building.

"Well that's one annoyance cleared," said Lancer, turning to look at Rider after retrieving his tool. "Hey you. Are you gonna pull out that thing again?"

"Get out of the way, Lancer!"

"Eh?" was all the knight could say before he and Saber scattered to both sides of the street, as Berserker crashed down with an almighty force on the spot where they were.

Saber watched as the girl descended from the silent giant hurriedly, curious to see Illya's current countenance. Blood-red, spidery lines now covered the girl's face and hands, as if traced by some sadistic hand on the white skin.

"Makiri! Release Emiya Shirou this instant!"

"Who's this brat?" Lancer remarked, and Saber saw him stare at the muscular giant warily.

What was Illyasviel planning by coming here?

"Makiri! Reveal yourself!"

"**I am here**," came a voice, **"And really, it is rather childish to resort to compulsion like that. I thought an Einzbern would have more dignity.**" From out of the darkness stepped forth a small, bent old man, as if he'd been standing back hidden and watching all this time.

Saber saw clear satisfaction on the shriveled face as its eyes scanned the assembly of Servants around him. When it caught sight of Rider, something moved in the man's expression which made Rider instantly fade from sight, dematerializing into spirit form.

"So," the man said, sighing, "Assassin has lost, Rider is useless and all is right in the world. I knew I should've begun moving it back to the mansion… What business would three Servants and an Einzbern have, then, with this old man?"

"I demand you release my Master, magus!" Saber couldn't help but yell, stepping forward a few paces.

"Ah, the font's Servant. Where are my manners? I am Matou Zouken, a magus of some skill. Worry not; you and your Master will be put to good use under my care. As to the War, you can have my deepest assurances that any wish you may have shall be addressed, and much more quicker if your Master proves cooperative."

"I care not. Cease your vile magic, or I will have to cut you down." A bolt of light suddenly erupted at the side of her vision, a glob of magical energy aimed straight for the old man.

Before it could hit, a geyser of black rose to block the attack. Having done so, the mysterious shadow retreated, revealing behind an unfazed Zouken.

"What she said, Makiri," Illyasviel said, a haze of red seeming to settle around her. "Release Shirou, or else! He is mine!"

"Oh, so you intend to obtain a mystery like him for yourself, Einzbern? That is laudable." Zouken chuckled. "But as you can see, I have the right of first acquisition. You and your family may apply for borrowing privileges as soon as I am done. But as a matter of course, you will have to jostle your way in with all the other magi who desire to wet their beaks…"

"_I _don't care for the garbage coming from your mouth, Makiri!" She attacked again, and again it was absorbed.

"Understand your position, Einzbern," said Zouken, still standing implacably as before. "What I stand upon is a substance you might recognize, being the fifth… It is something that neither you nor the Servant behind you—" His gaze wandered over to the other Servants. "—Nor any of you would wish to touch. That is, unless you desire a distorted existence."

"Enough!" Saber said, charging up what little energy she had left to strike.

"Let's not be hasty," said Zouken, eyeing her now. "As Rider pointed out, unleashing that miraculous power of yours would only end up endangering your Master. It would serve as ample revenge for what I am doing: although at the same time it would be quite a pyrrhic victory for you, Servant Saber. And anything less than your attack, you will be glad to know," gaze now regarding Illya, "-will just as easily become food for me and my trump card."

"I will not stand for this!" said Illya, stamping her foot. "Berserker!"

A roar answered her.

Zouken grinned widely as the giant charged, weapon already poised to strike.

And then there was a loud, explosive splash of water.

"_Behold, the Lord's good word_."

Battle instincts caused Berserker to stop, but only briefly, as a fresh, glinting wet line separated him from the blackness' boundary.

Every eye looked up, at the source of the voice.

A tall woman stood on top of the ravaged part of the building, long, wavy brown hair swaying in the breeze. She was clad in a pure-white nun's habit, though there were no visible ornaments on her to indicate her faith. Several metallic objects floated about and above her. In her hands was a coiled, pulsing weapon of power.

Her eyes sweeped over them all, before settling upon the withered magus.

"Matou Zouken. As a Master with a defeated Servant, you may now qualify to seek sanctum with the Church. It is a requirement, sir, or else these other Servants may make short work of you."

"Who are you, woman? And why—" Zouken's gaze tightened, as if realizing something. "You have a familiar scent. Are you comrades with this one here, or is it-"

The whip cracked, quick as lightning, though it did not reach the man; but it was enough for the magus' strange protection to activate, though a bit impotently this time. The darkness slowly sunk down after the feint, and a tense silence followed while all beheld this strange exchange.

"That was not an order, Matou Zouken." The dull edge that used to be in the woman's voice sharpened considerably. "Desist in your scheme, at once."

"You and the Einzbern are all the same. Oh yes, I can sense your intent clear as the light of day. Hungry chum swarming at the first hint of food. But I was here first—"

"Lancer." The woman turned her gaze to the blue knight.

"What, woman?"

"Kill Emiya Shirou," she said commandingly.

"What? Who the hell are you to-" Lancer started violently, as if he'd received an electric shock. "You're kidding me right? Son of a bitch!" Saber saw the knight slap his knee, a wild expression on his face.

"If you'd like, shall it be an order?"

"Obviously it would go against everything I've been doing the past hour if I followed that. But…" He glanced at Saber, then at Berserker. "I don't think I can do it. It's pretty plain there are clear obstacles in my path, and that's not even mentioning the crazy old magus standing on that demonic pool. My instincts tell me to fight, but they also tell me I don't stand a chance."

"Then…_shall it be an order_?" A ghost of a smile appeared on the woman's face.

"No! Shit, don't—"

Saber, still unclear about the exchange, looked from the woman to Lancer. The man seemed to convulse, staring quickly from Saber to Berserker with half-lidded eyes.

"For the last time, I would advise against it—_Master_." Master? Immediately, Saber's gaze swiveled to the white-clad woman. This was the person they were supposed to meet? Had that woman been also intending an ambush?

"You may trust me in this matter, my Servant. _I _will handle the other while you, Lancer—"—a haze of red now shone on the woman's arm—"—_Ignore all distractions, use all in your power to pierce through the barrier and take care of Emiya Shirou._" The woman leaped from the rooftop and landed with a feline grace on the ground near its apparent Servant.

The man bared his teeth, as both Saber and Illya tensed. "Damn… Well it looks like our truce ends here, Saber. It's a fucking shame I still don't get to fight you again. Or him."

"Lancer, I knew it, you—" Saber turned to face the knight, face going taut at the betrayal, as Zouken chuckled silently behind them all.

"I don't need this distraction. I don't care who you are, but I'm not letting _any_ Master have Shirou! Berserker!" Illyasviel pointed at the mystery woman. "Grind that woman to a bloody paste, then Lancer, then that dried up magus!"

As Berserker rent the night again with his battle cry, Saber took a stance and faced Lancer, who was already sizing up the darkness behind her critically.

"I won't let you harm Shirou, Lancer. I shall never let you pass."

"Hey, I'll be doing you lot a favor by destroying… well, _trying_ to destroy whatever's binding your Master. You should be _grateful_."

"Still, I must defend him at all times, at all costs."

"Are you fucking stupid, Saber? This just means we destroy each other, and your Master never gets a chance to be saved." That, and Zouken's occasional amused giggles, made Saber think furiously on her next course of action. There were just too many unknowns that the only way she saw in order to proceed was to follow her ideals to the end.

"Then I shall ensure that I live. I'm sorry, Lancer, but your part in the War ends—"

"Berserker?" The Einzbern's hushed, troubled tone distracted Saber for a second, when her sight wandered over to the giant Servant.

"Hm?" Lancer lazily turned to look as well.

What she saw then was astounding to Saber, who had fought Berserker firsthand.

The earth had been hollowed out with craters all throughout the field, with many pebbles and small rocks littering the street behind them. And there Berserker stood in the middle of the devastation, trembling with arms slack and shoulders hunched, as if all the fight had been sucked from him. The woman stood some paces in front of him, still smiling placidly.

A long, transparent, line—luminous in the nature of river's calm surface at night—connected the woman's outstretched arm to Berserker's chest.

"_dicit mater eius ministris _**quodcumque dixerit vobis facite**_."_

With those words, a great splattering sound echoed, the watery line disappeared, and now Berserker's upper body was covered in a sheen of what seemed to be blood and sweat, though Saber wasn't sure.

"The effects are diminished with someone cursed by madness; but on the other hand, it was easy to turn this one's mind." The woman made a cutting, upward gesture, and Berserker did a mighty, earth-shaking stomp with its feet. Growling menacingly, it turned deliberately back towards the direction of its Master.

Saber saw the attack coming even before the giant had turned. Though she couldn't understand why she did what she did—scooping up the girl who'd merely stood there with eyes wide as saucers right as the monster's recognizable charge raged.

"Unhand me Saber!" Illya demanded from beneath her. "What has that woman done to my Berserker!?"

Saber now moved to dance for the third time with her enemy, now joined perhaps reluctantly by Lancer, who had been the next target after Illya.

"Hey, you godamned Master, what gives? Do you want me to follow the Seal's command or not?" Lancer didn't try to attack, instead focused on avoiding Berserker's attacks.

"Lancer, just treat it as a minor annoyance and go do your job," remarked the Master, who took one step sideward to dodge a magical bullet from Illyasviel. "It is a weakness in this art that those who are no longer masters of their domain can never be fully controlled."

"Lancer. Do not think I will let you ever harm my Master, even in this situation," said Saber coldly, as she used the surplus of energies from her Master to parry each wild, monstrous strike of Berserker's. The effort would have been disastrous on her arms, had Excalibur still been hidden by wind. The bared holy weapon, suffused with the energies of a legend, lent greater force to Saber's blows and counters.

The Lancer snorted, but the situation seemed to have silenced his candor.

And then there were two sets of laughter, the brief, high giggle of the woman's and Zouken's grating chuckle. Saber could almost hear several whip cracks sounding again and again, and then heard a loud splash of water in the midst of a booming clang of steel.

"You're trash, like that boy, Rider," she heard Zouken say with frank contempt. "Better you'd held back instead of attacking." Another familiar light filled Saber's gaze, and the swordsman felt the pressure of Rider's tool being unleashed yet again.

Saber then heard the woman make a satisfied sound behind her. "Finally, someone I can actually use. Lancer, look well. This is how a Servant should follow orders." The white light shone brighter, and Saber, having had enough of all the things that separated her from her charge, rolled sideward and then swung her sword in a wide, horizontal arc.

"Excalibur!" She heard several men curse, including Zouken, as she unleashed another flare of magical energy to meet Rider's renewed charge.

A fire had started, most probably because the buildings she'd obliterated had had something flammable within. Saber immediately stood and held her sword before her, eyes surveying the situation.

The woman stood where she'd been, staring at her with empty, appraising eyes. She now stood at the precipice of a great chasm of carved concrete that arced directly from Saber's position. Berserker was hunched over on his knees to her right, bleeding a huge waterfall from a great wound that had severed his arm and parts of his torso and leg. Rider and Lancer were nowhere to be found.

"Taking control of Berserker from the start may have been a mistake," the woman said quietly. Saber saw her glance over at the pool of darkness, where a wall of sheer darkness had risen and was now falling down, revealing Zouken where he'd stood.

"Damn, shout out a warning before doing that, yeah?" said Lancer, crawling out from a pile of rubble farther across.

She risked a glance behind her, surprised to see Illyasviel prone and unconscious against the wall where she'd left her, looking very much like a broken, castaway doll with its tiny hand clinging to its chest. "Disregard Matou Zouken's warning Saber," said the woman. Saber shot her a glare. "You should use your sacred weapon on that aberration. You seem far more effective in that role than most."

Just as she was about to growl a retort, Lancer spoke: "I'm hurt, Master. Gee, why don't you just use your little spellcraft to bind that Zouken and have _him_ take care of Emiya Shirou."

"Because he can not," rumbled the shrunken magus this time; and Saber saw him smile in the manner of an imp. "That thing, however effective it might be even against Servants, seems to require a donation of blood to enforce the _geas_-like component on its victim. But I, fortunately, have not an ounce of blood in this corpse of mine, and so he must resort to his cat's paws." Corpse? What was that man saying—that he had no blood? Was he a spirit, just like them?

"You are very perceptive, sir," said the woman smoothly, inclining her head.

The old man shrugged, although a pensive look had settled on his face. "My thanks for the praise, but that shall not spare you from being my second specimen. One font is a treasure in itself, but _two_ is an astronomical event—as rare and miraculous as the birthing of new stars from the belly of the darkness. I would be a fool to miss this chance."

The woman murmured something, and Saber heard a dripping of water against stone. The woman's hands shimmered again with that strange weapon of hers, and Saber caught see its intentions when the woman locked eyes with her.

"With Rider gone and Berserker still recovering, I shall have to use you, Saber." The attack came so suddenly, even before she could retort a dismissal. Saber barely had time to twirl her weapon upward to deflect the scourge, and then there was the sound of her sword striking water. Outraged, Saber turned the full brunt of her battle lust on the woman.

"Resist all you wish. Or, free your Master before she is lost forever. It is ultimately your choice. Either way, I will have you turning your sword upon the darkness."

Saber said nothing to that, dashing in close to get within her opponent's guard. As she waved her sword about, she noticed that most of the woman's attacks were aiming for her head. Of course! She pivoted, adjusting into a stance that favored her upper body over her lower, and drawing her hands closer to her neck.

"So you noticed?" asked the woman. Several of the things that were floating around her moved to intercept Saber's offensive each time she got close. They seemed durable, which puzzled Saber in that instant—few things could resist Excalibur's unleashed blade. "Truly the mark of a master swordsman."

"Why… why do many of you stand in my way!?"

"Personally," the woman said with a twitch of an eyebrow, leaning left to dodge a stabbing strike. "Because you're standing in _my _way Saber. As a being of holy sentiments I must see to the purification of all that is inhuman and anathema.

"Lancer!" the woman said loudly. "Why are you just standing there? Follow my Command!"

Damn! Saber had almost forgotten the other Servant in her urge to strike the woman down.

"I've had enough of this farce. Continue to slaughter yourselves if it amuses you," said Zouken. "I will see to the prize in my grasp first before I acquire you. Please ensure you don't die before then, but that seems to be easy enough to do for something like you."

The woman made a tsking sound, while Saber made a great backward somersault to stand immediately before Lancer. The two knights, seemingly recognizing the inevitability of it all, slipped into the posture of battle. Saber kept her vision fixed on her two opponents.

The tension broke, to Saber's consternation, when a loud, ringing laughter broke into the silence.

"It has been mildly entertaining watching you worms scramble and struggle. But the time has come for dawn: the time for worms to retreat into the sheltered darkness. And you, walking worm, must be the first to scurry away from this eminent gaze—lest the light of creation burns your soul from this and all other planes of existence."

* * *

Rin hissed in barely concealed irritation. "Another fire? It'll become harder to fight this War if the city goes on high alert from this."

Archer said nothing to that, seemingly absorbed with something he wasn't revealing to her. He'd said she'd had to be bound if something came up, but that something didn't seem to have happened yet.

Hiding out of sight and out of danger up here was, in a way, for the best. If the other Servants kept busy, she might just get lucky and some or all would die killing each other—leading to a quick win of the War with only the barest experience of actual combat. She only hoped that Shirou survived—though not for the reasons her Servant seemed to insinuate.

After a quick, totally embarrassing sound, Rin bowed her head, glaring at her traitorous stomach. As most of the adrenaline had left her system, she now felt the first pains of hunger.

"Rin."

She forcefully banished the heat from her cheeks. "You heard nothing! That wasn't—"

"Please listen."

"Huh?" the urgency in the Servant's tone made Rin immediately look up, only to have her vision obscured by the sight of Archer's armor.

"Archer, wha-"

"You shouldn't look directly at it," Archer said, and then she heard a strong, loud sound like distant rumbling thunder. Confused, Rin looked to her side, where she saw the unmistakable light of dawn burst through the rooftop. But it wasn't even midnight yet! How did that…?

"Archer..." she stammered. "Is that…?"

"No." her Servant answered. After a pause, he continued, "Though it's a no less annoying occurrence."

The sounds intensified into a grand crescendo of roaring, and to Rin it sounded like a million people shouting at the same time.

* * *

Has anyone ever felt such a feeling?

To hold the apex of all that elevated man and god above their respective creations, to _be_ the treasure of treasures, a being that has tasted the end of infinity itself?

Few could claim to have achieved such splendor in their lifetimes—the gods died easily enough even in their might, and humans were too short and petty to ever aspire to rise above the mud.

He was born into a glorious legacy, and he had never failed to be worthy of his divine right and so deserved every epithet his people ascribed him: the truly great, the first hero, the genuine king, the protector of his kingdom, the slayer of his enemies, false lords and jealous beasts. In his time, to dare emulate his majesty was punishable by death, though he laughed good-humoredly at each attempt.

If one beheld him as he was then when the world was a much simpler, deeper place, one's eyes would burn right away from his brilliance, as if one beheld the god of morning. He was the golden beacon and Uruk's second sun, and certainly greater than any god who laid claim to the morning.

He knew secrets of this world that few people would glimpse in the bastard nations that followed in Uruk's wake. He'd battled many with a heart full of cheer and devoid of fear: titanic things, otherworldly things, things from the deep and the beyond. All that was precious in the world was his, treasures wrested from willing or unwilling hands.

Of course the truth of it all, surpassing the tales of gods and mediocre man, can never be truly described, even by those who were there to witness it all.

All that was left was the legend.

In Fuyuki, at the climax of the Grail War, the golden beacon flared to existence after millennia of absence.

It was an experience "he" had almost forgotten, a miscellany in the chaos of the last War and then forgotten when he'd become tainted since.

And as fate would have it, tonight, when he felt the very land churn and quake, when he could feel the uneasiness dribbling from every direction as from a cowardly warrior, he was then able to remember the thunder, the sun and the weeping of the heavens.

The "self" he'd forgotten came to him piecemeal, like so much flotsam and jetsam, in a torrent of revelation. And even still there were many fragments, many things yet forgotten.

But even an iota of the hero that had been far outmatched the shades of each hero that had come after.

His form, purified of the unsightly magics that had incarnated him into a lump of flesh, arose glorious in the night, the butterfly expanding its wings from its ugly chrysalis.

It was unfortunate that no gods remained that would recognize the divine glow that briefly illuminated the earth—only the mindless, enduring, unsleeping, neutral force that was as old as the world itself was left to witness it, and to that he remembered once smiling to defy that totality, even if it had inescapable chains.

His form was incomprehensible to any who looked upon him in that moment, forced to be mere vermin lowering their heads and shielding their eyes from true power.

But as for those present who could claim to be heroes: what little their minds were able to comprehend formed for them a concrete, lucid form.

His armor covered him from head to toe, gold as the sands of his time, when the desert was a thing easily befriended. Each inch of it was inscribed with symbols that no one would ever identify, each telling a story untold that when combined formed the entirety of his being, completely describing the whole that was him.

A dozen dancing jewels, each facet adorned with an ancient word of majesty, floated in waiting about him: mere extensions of his power. Three were the size of an obelisk, five the size of a lamp and four little smaller than the earrings he'd worn.

A halo of gold radiated from his shoulders, pulsing repeatedly like a star's heartbeat. A gleam of red shone through the eyes carved on his helmet, and that gaze was now directed at the worm magus. The darkness that he'd seen once pool and persist around the husk seemed to have fled from his glory, as was right and proper.

"**Heed well, worm**," and the voice he heard was no longer his, but then he remembered it has always been that way: high and muffled and majestic. "**I am bound by laws beyond even me to cease the distortion that you are letting fester beneath your pathetic sleight of hand. Take those worms and begone, or be dust**."

There was a general buzzing that he heard then—after all, in this form all he could only hear now would the voices of the gods and the challenges of worthy enemies. But he was still able to understand the general message, like the hunter who hears the fawn's desperate bleat: refusal.

"**Dust it is then**." And with a snap of gloved fingers, he opened the Gates.

An even impossibly greater brilliance formed around the battlefield as space shimmered and rippled to reveal the Gates, bristling with unbridled magic only held back by his will. The Gates cut off all chances of escape, appearing in the sky and the ground, one even formed directly above the walking worm.

The worm is too pathetic for him to even contemplate using the contents of his treasure room. And so, he opens the gates through which peered his birthright: once stolen and then returned—a glimpse of the fires of creation.

With a second snap, the Gates let loose: and Fuyuki was bathed in brief, unexpected sunlight. Uniform beams of golden light fired from each Gate to converge upon one point—the magus. He wasn't satisfied with one barrage, and so each Gate fired again and again, vomiting the destructive light of heaven repeatedly upon the presumptuous worm and all the darkness around him.

And when he saw, after sealing off the Gates, that the magus held on as a small lump of squirming flesh attempting to escape his sight, the King was seized with fury.

"**Such insolence! Return to ash you impudent worm**!" Drawing upon the largest jewel close to him, he tore open a Gate, larger than the rest, a small sun born underneath the magus' squirming remnants. The resulting attack was a dazzling light stabbing into the sky, and for a moment it was a pillar connecting heaven and earth—a beacon that signaled the beginning of the War's end.

* * *

It was not an unfair thing to say that Saber was not awed or intimidated—though, she held little fear for the enormous power that she felt the golden being held. But she respected it nonetheless, for it seemed a positive force, god-like but not malevolent in nature.

And it seemed that from that one's efforts, the darkness around her Master had been dispelled; and Saber dashed immediately to the side of Emiya Shirou who lay prone on the ground still glimmering with residues of golden light. Her Master's small form was riddled with blood, her clothes ripped and torn through in places.

"Wha…?"

"I'm here Master." She helped her light Master up and held him by her side, her other arm flaunting Excalibur. Shirou's body felt warm and stable, which was reassuring.

"Is it really you… Saber?" Her Master's eyes fluttered open listlessly, head bobbing from side to side. Saber began making a few steps forward, her eyes squinting through the light –tinged battlefield. She would have to make a quick getaway in order to let her Master rest.

"Yes. It was a long, tiring battle—and now we need to withdraw, Master. We need to rest for the night."

"I was looking… for you… waiting… I called many times… why… didn't you…?" Her Master's words were interspersed with pained, ragged gasps, and she endured a flash of murderous rage at all those that had impeded her from him.

"My deepest apologies, Master. I should not have let us fight for far longer than we did."

"Answer… me…"

"Master?" She could feel the heat rising from her Master's body. And it was only when she stopped to take a closer look that she realized the sound of metal scraping against metal hadn't come from her armor—it was a steady rhythm coming from her Master. What was happening to her Master? "Please calm down, Master. You're safe now. I'm here."

"Couldn't move… couldn't fight… tearing, turning—you won't…" Whatever Shirou had endured, Saber felt she needed to make sure he was in a secure location to begin recovery.

"Oh my, it's good to see we weren't too late," said the woman's voice, and Saber tensed, pointing Excalibur's tip forward when she and Lancer stood before the two of them.

"You shall not harm my Master," said Saber, her mind already calculating the moves she would have to do to ensure she and Shirou got out safely. Her eyes strayed especially to Lancer, who had his weapon tip pointed straight back.

"Have no fears, Servant Saber." The woman smiled, clasping her hands behind her and speaking calmly as if they were but people chatting idly on the fields. "For the time being, it is satisfactory that he has been freed." She tilted her head, eyes wandering over to Lancer beside her. "Aside from that, my Servant here has been commanded to take good care of your Master—isn't that right, Lancer?"

The man's eyes strayed to the woman then back to Saber. After a beat, he lowered his weapon with military promptness, stabbing the end onto the ground.

Saber didn't relent, even at the sight of his apparent peaceful intentions. Relaxing one's guard now would be death. Beside her, Shirou had begun mumbling nonsensical words.

"**I would have never figured you to be a hero, priest. Did you not prove it to me, all those years ago?" **A burst of light, and the golden one descended slowly to the ground near them, as if carried by unseen strings. It landed with barely any sound, as if its armor were as light as a feather.

The woman turned to regard the radiant being, seemingly unaffected by its blinding presence. "And I on the other hand, had formed my theories about you not too long ago." Her face broke into a half sneer. "It seemed evident, but you must understand if I held some reservations. The legends were never clear and you weren't so forthcoming; and I also never was able to look deeper into that senseless Contract."

"Who…?" Saber began.

"**Ah, my little precious. Tell me, does it not seem a heady feeling, gaining all that energy from that newborn grub? It is as if you were drinking blood straight from the world's heart—fresh and powerful. With it, you were able to vanquish that pathetic monster and triumph over that brute.**"

"I have not had the—" Saber mastered herself. She could not shake off the feeling that she knew this entity, somehow. "I thank you earnestly for saving my Master. But for now we must withdraw from the field."

"You'll be withdrawing with us, I should hope," the woman said slickly, her arms open in invitation. "I have the necessary skills to help your Master recover more efficiently."

"That won't be necessary," said Saber, her gaze hardening. She could feel her Master's hot, ragged breath on the fabric of her arm. "Though again, I express my thanks."

"**You can't leave us yet, precious."**

"I am NOT your—" It was then that her Master moaned hard, and an instant later, energy surged from his body in streams of light.

"Master?!"

"So that's the event it was screaming would happen…" The woman sounded like she were describing a curiosity.

"What the hell?" quipped Lancer.

"**That was certainly foolish of the Contract to find something with clear distortion."**

Saber, utterly perplexed by the sight, suddenly lost feeling in her legs. The connection had suddenly begun pouring a large amount of energy into her, flooding her consciousness with more than she could handle. And when she fought to steady her will against the foreign river raging within her, she found herself unbearably overwhelmed, until she was swept away into a nothingness of pure white.

* * *

Archer cursed, quickly holding out a hand to hold Rin back before she could make the next leap and clear the distance between rooftops.

"Gyaah! What gives, Archer?" she asked as he placed her down gently on the rooftop's surface. She peered clumsily over the edge, her magus instincts clearly telling her something major was definitely going on over at the battlefield.

"It's time for me to bind you Rin. I'm so sorry, but there are stupid rules I have to follow." His eyes sought hers, and she caught in there a gleam of guilt and desperation.

"Archer." That one word carried the weight of many questions.

When Archer still refused to elaborate, Rin bit her lip, looking towards the magical disturbance before nodding at her Servant. As the owner, she had the responsibility over all things related to magic in the land. But this—this felt something far beyond her, loathe as she was to admit it. Something told her it was beyond even the War, though she couldn't be sure.

"Okay… Okay! Okay. I trust you, Archer."

"I'm very thankful – Rin," he said, genuine gratitude evident in his voice. And then, wasting little time, the white-haired Servant murmured something Rin couldn't hear, and after a wave of his index finger, all the girl could sense of the world was an absence of it.

The overwriting—for that was unmistakably what was happening there—was quickly blossoming into a full-fledged rewriting of all localized reality.

And the sight of it was so familiar that its cause was also unmistakable to the Archer who knew it best out of all humans that ever were in existence.

"…primary analysis complete. Shit. It's definitely a bound field." And it was expanding. Fast.

Under normal circumstances, he would have solved this situation, accomplishing two goals at the same time, by slaying the source of the expanding bound field.

In fact, that _would_ still be the knight's course of action, if "it" had not begun railing against his mind, screaming an insensible, incomprehensible reprimand, commanding him to cease, forcing his very thoughts towards another purpose, his magic circuits already being primed.

He was the tool, and it was the Master, and he would cut and swing and crush and play to the tune of each being he'd ever contracted with, in payment for a favor made a long time ago.

"Tentative assessment—signature confirmed. Interfacing with self identification matrix. Confirmed." Archer blinked rapidly, pushing back the strains of a headache. "'Crumbling Flawed Blade Works.' Damned if that isn't a mouthful."

The area about the fire was overflowing with energy, the base components of the immediate environment being consumed, converted and formed into the ideal set by the field's caster. And that ideal seemed to involve a cracked, barren wasteland, as if afflicted by an intense, enduring drought. Swords of all shapes were planted every few feet about the land, their hilts barely peeking above the ground like the stems of a root crop. The distant rumbling of a steam engine and screeching, rusty gears echoed from nowhere.

Alike and yet unlike.

What did it have to accomplish by enforcing the field to form? Did it feel some semblance of petty human caprice by allowing Fuyuki, and possibly the rest of the world, to be reshaped according to "their" inner ideals? Did it find that prospect amusing?

How could he stop it?

He had to rebel. He had to fight back, for the sake of "his" Fuyuki—"his" people. He had to go beyond his duties as a Servant, to alter the course of fate.

And if direct intervention wasn't possible, then something indirect would have to do.

"_A body of swords._"

Initializing… initializing counter-force…

Insufficient energy. Failed to recreate.

Archer cursed. He had the vision, but the energy required to summon it exceeded Tosaka Rin's reserves. It required more than what she could ever hope to gain at the height of her power.

Then a thought occurred to him. If it was proving to be capricious, then maybe it wouldn't object to one more hero reporting for duty.

Not that he'd ever been a hero, even on that long ago hill of blades.

But the power he'd obtained so late in his life was theoretically still there—a link forged with a tired man making his final ascent to the hill's pinnacle. A link that probably endured even in his current form, all in accordance with its will.

The Contract had come too late to make a difference.

But he would use it here.

A flash of smoke, and a transformation that stretched muscles he hadn't thought were sore, and he was ready.

With a smile of self-derision, he regarded his Master. He was thankful she was bound. He didn't want to guess how much she'd blow her lid if she saw him now.

Concept stabilized.

A bow was in his hand, simple and sturdy.

He nocked _something_ against it, and turned to aim upward. (He was almost tempted to use a different arrow, and aim somewhere lower and ahead)

Holding the dread image steady in his mind, he murmured a low chant and begun a spell that then sucked all the energy from his body at a rapid rate. He held firm, holding back the natural instinct to pull from his Master and drawing upon his own Contract with the world.

He smirked. How fitting that he'd use its energy against its own unfathomable scheme.

He breathed out one burst of air, before releasing the nonexistent arrow.

"Fleeting Apocalypse: Damocles!"

A titanic, sword-shaped crystal, red and menacing, formed directly in the skies above Fuyuki, eclipsing the moonlight with its sheer bulk. It floated, wreathed with a modest dress of clouds and a palpable sense of dread and impending doom.

Would it fall?

What would happen if it did?

Would it embed itself into the world, a genuine curiosity?

Or would it obliterate everything, in one brief flash of red?

How much would one pay

To let it fall/to not let it fall

(Decide thy fate)

Predictably, with its arrival came a chorus of screams that reverberated throughout the entire city.

Archer gazed up at his handiwork, taking many deep breaths to calm his raging circuits.

The projection was a monstrous undertaking, though it filled no combat use whatsoever. It would fade in a few minutes—it required a planet's worth of energy to make it persist long enough to fulfill its duty.

It was traced from a battle he'd fought and lost many lifetimes before.

He remembered the maddened screech of the cultists, the gathering of Many, the city being leveled, and then that ominous shape, appearing in the sky.

Failing to prevent it, they instead worked to save as many as they could.

And so did he engrave its massive, portentous form into his soul, to always remember that heroes could fail.

The coin had flipped to one side.

The sword had come down.

Archer shook the memories away. He turned back to face the distortion.

"A worthy scheme, Servant Archer."

A break of sunlight.

"**I never thought someone else would have the jewels to flip that thing off. Well played, little counterfeiter. Well played."**

The broken girl stood tall, in her shortness, against the black-hearted woman and the golden demigod.

"But honestly, Servant Archer. Do you have any idea what you've set in motion? You've made it very, very angry." The being beside her chuckled, as if greatly amused.

He glanced at Rin, who was still bound, and then at the distant distortion, which he saw had disappeared. He didn't care what the priest said. Mission accomplished.

"It's no trouble," she declared, tilting her head boldly and brushing off dust from her dress. "I can piss a lot of people off without even trying. What's one more?"


	3. Quest for the Holy Grail

Part 2: Quest for the Holy Grail

The universe is a cold void of random, unmerciful chaos.

It is understandable, though incomprehensible to lesser-developed entities, that each being born into the yawning expanse find ways to defend itself.

Some millions of years before the accounts mentioned, upon the surface of a world two planets away from Sol, a hunched figure suddenly rears up and screams, holding in its hand a bone fragment of the antediluvian lizard empires.

In its rage it ventures alone against a giant creature of flesh, blood and stone, a rock terapede forced underground for millions of years. It had burrowed back to the light, and it now threatens to wipe the fledgling empire of apes before it can be born.

It dies, screaming, losing hold of its weapon in one crucial moment. The creature goes on to ravage its family and other families across the primordial forest.

A year later, though the creature is unaware of it, it returns to the area, pursued by another ape bearing the power of fire summoned from its very will. (It is a magic that is easily forgotten) The creature rallies, enraged, and the ape is forced to fall back, almost overwhelmed by its brutality.

At the crucial moment, it picks up a bone fragment—the skull of its predecessor one year ago—and, filled by the rage that still coats the object, summons a storm of wind that cuts deep into the creature's wounded underbelly.

Many of its kin watch from afar as the creature writhes in its death throes. Along with it is the victor, who has been lacerated and bruised too much to survive. But it has bought with its triumph the future of its race, and word quickly spreads of the ape that killed the earth shaker.

It is a hero: first to rise, first to be forgotten.

The empire is subsumed by cousin races, and they in turn are overthrown, until the un-furred creatures, fire in hand, are left standing in the end.

It was a climactic duel, though not a record of it exists: the bow-legged chieftain that could shatter a mountain with a swing of its fist overwhelmed by the champion who walked ever on two legs, wielding claws forged from the bones of its sister and an amulet of quartz that could ward off fire. The cunning champion lights himself on fire and gives the chieftain a fiery embrace, and in the end the burnt one (as he was called thereafter) takes the chieftain's riches for him and his tribe, and they move on, unaware that they'd wiped out their great uncles from existence.

It is in this time that gods began to walk the world once more, called by the things that could give them sustenance; and it is in this time that legends begin to grow. Of the giants who walked among men and the heroes who annihilated them, of beasts that spoke in men's tongues, of the brave who ventured into the land of the dead to retrieve a mate from some lord of death, of seers who walked up to the thunder-crowned heights to retrieve a whisper of rain for their people, of kings who built a city on the corpse of a dragon, and so much more.

And then there was a man made entirely of gold, who defied the gods themselves, culled the vast wilds, and hunted the last giant to extinction; who borrowed the secrets of immortality from the garden of life, and who wrestled death itself for the sake of a friend.

He was the First of all that followed.

* * *

No matter how high

You and I crane our necks,

Squint our eyes

And strain our boat and our backs

We only see the far, far sea

/

You're looking behind,

Beyond the salty foam

Your tears fall—

You no longer see our home

That's beyond the far, far sea

* * *

"It's a simple concept, in theory." The man's (correction: woman's) tea was as graciously dreary as the one who prepared them, and Rin stifled a twitch in her cheek after taking one sip. She placed the cup back on the saucer, before leaning back on the chair, fixing her former guardian with her trademark sharp stare.

She delicately closed her eyes while the man droned on, almost wishing in the darkness of her eyelids that it had all been a dream, that she was still in the school patrolling with Archer-no, even further back, even before she'd ever even summoned an Archer and she would wake up to summon a Saber- no no, she was in middle school, and this was a dream formed from a combination of ice cream and a late night cartoon involving magical girls.

But when Rin opened her eyes, the stark reality awaited her: Kotomine Kirei, a shadow of a sneer on "his" face, hands delicately clasped on the table edge before him. He was the spitting image of the Virgin Mother herself. Minus the hood. And the genuine aura of virtue.

"-chosen randomly I should think. Certain criteria is expected in each hero. Potential for strength. Stubborn will. Wisdom. Fortitude. Cunning. And sometimes, the qualities of a nosy busybody. It is the exemplary candidate who possesses all these attributes: they may even rank among the heroic spirits. And when it's determined—" Rin heard a small sound and shifted her attention for a second. Saber stepped quietly into the room then leaned back against the door that led to where Shirou lay. Her face seemed to indicate that she intended to listen, though Kirei didn't make a show of acknowledgement and continued without missing a beat. Rin wondered if he was a narcissist who loved hearing his own voice.

"—duties involve fighting anything that the Contract deems threatening. It may be a minor magus or a world-threatening catastrophe. And so they're granted a measure of power that enables them to combat such threats, alone if need be. Of course, it is said that other similar forces exist, so I would not find it improbable for other protective systems to exist. But by and large these heroes are one of the most ubiquitous in the entire world—each hiding in plain sight according to the terms of their contract. You would never discover them until you get involved in a crisis, or are a crisis yourself. But although there are no penalties for revelation, the reaction of those who recognize the hero is said to be…priceless." Kirei's cheeks twitched in a brief, uncharacteristic giggle, to which Rin blinked vacantly. She then pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Okay… so where does the gender shift thing come in? I mean, you make a Contract, I can get behind that—you reach superhuman potential through a process similar to the Grail War's Servant system, yadda, yadda. But why does it involve your heroes turning into little girls? Is it some sort of weird punishment game?"

"To that I can give no definite explanation, but there are observations I have garnered from meeting one other such as myself—aside from young Emiya Shirou back there. That was when I was still with the Church… a young man with certain—tendencies. After accepting the terms, it then immediately transformed me into a very young girl in a nun's habit."

Rin couldn't help but snort, murmuring a silent "excuse me" into her palm.

"Sorry." She cleared her throat. "Go on."

Kirei raised an eyebrow. "You may think it amusing, Rin, but my form had certain advantages belying its appearance that I utilized to great effect. With it I was able to acquire certain Mysteries from a Templar trove in the Holy City. It was there that I met the other hero—and he was much, much older in his other self. He'd explained to me that he'd been a hero for nigh on thirty years. And he had such… _power._ My mind still remembers shivering when he unleashed it." The unflappable Kirei trembling in his boots? That was a sight that needed to be seen to be believed. Though what remained the most unbelievable was the notion that the spiteful, sly magus/priest could have ever qualified as a "hero (of justice)".

"**Why did you accept?**" asked the golden-clad thing, and Rin was forced to look towards the unknown while it stood facing a window. **"I find it hard to believe you became as you are only recently. The roots of your current being stretch far to the past. I'd stake a third of my entire fortune it was earlier than the time you encountered the Contract. I find it difficult to imagine you accepting such a burden, let alone growing past the first stage.**"

"Well yes, I had my misgivings," Kirei said, agreeing. Rin wondered what exactly "sunny" was referring to. "But ultimately I accepted because at the time-" His eyes wandered, the ghost of a smile on his face, "—It… was interesting."

The golden one snorted loudly. Kirei seemed to find it amusing as well, because he chuckled, an amused air settling uncomfortably on the room. Rin looked from the unknown and Kirei with suspicion. The gold guy hadn't even introduced to her yet—though she knew he was something she couldn't mess with. The hairs on her nape had risen when she'd seen it for the first time.

After a short silence, Kirei looked back up at Rin. "To continue, from the time of that encounter I worked hard at perfecting my skills as a hero. And I succeeded—largely. Over time my transformation's body grew, from the body of an eight-year old, to a thirteen-year old, then eighteen- and so on until I reached this form you see before you. But when I did so, I realized I was no more powerful than I was when I began. I knew a lot more, true, saw many, and had experience that only the Church's top Executors could match. (Although I was very careful not to stand out as Kotomine Kirei—as the Contract demanded) But I was never able to reach the level of that hero I'd met.

"And so I can attribute this alternate form as a mere whim of the Contract's. A certain unexpected term added to the agreement I reached. It grows over time, at the same rate as a normal human's—although it started from a different point." It was here that the "sunny" made another sound, a derisive sniff from its position at the window.

"Am I wrong?" asked Kirei, turning to smile at the unknown.

"**The blind are free to believe their assumptions. But tell me this, Kotomine. Why did you stop growing? Why are you not sheathed in a single piece of armor?**"

The priest tilted his head and poked a finger into his cheek, and Rin found that action to be too much engaging and at the same time abnormal on him. She found herself unable to breathe, cheeks turning pink from the effort of resisting the impulse to laugh. Luckily, the barely heard traitorous giggle was lost in the priest's answer.

"You were never wrong. That role was never mine to take on in the first place. When it was no longer… interesting, I simply stopped. I figured it would be upset if I did so, but I never felt any repercussions from ignoring my sworn duty. And it has never once urged me to return, until tonight. I suspected the Contract had been severed—"

"**It'll never be dissolved**," the golden one interrupted. **"Not until death. A 'death' so final you may as well have never existed."**

"That's… good to know," Kirei said, now looking thoughtful.

"Hey Kirei," Rin said, pointing at the gold one's back. She couldn't hold the question off anymore. "Who's he?"

"**Careful whom you address,**" it hissed, and with a clink of metal turned about to look down on Rin with the red light of its gaze. **"I am a being that had transcended divinity to become something more—long before your people tamed the wilderness of this land.**"

"He is someone with… complicated circumstances," Kirei began to explain.

"You're Archer," said Saber suddenly, and the suddenness and tone of her speech made Rin stiffen, turning to look back at the blonde. Saber pressed on with conviction. "I suppose congratulations are in order—whatever wish you made of that thing must have surely pleased your twisted heart."

"Huh? What do you mean, Saber?" asked Rin. The one known as Archer laughed.

"_**There**_** is the fire I remember. You are as spirited as always my little precious. No, the truest wish I sought then was to own you—and lo! fate sees fit to grant what that anomaly could not. And now you stand before me, the tribute ready to be claimed.**"

"And my answer remains the same, Archer. Never."

"Archer…?" she glanced uneasily at the golden one. "Saber, do you know this one? Kirei, is he a Servant?"

The priest sighed, shifting from staring with faint amusement at the exchange to locking gazes with Rin. "As I said—complicated. What I can say without reservation is that he is a Servant from the previous War… its winner, so to speak."

"Wow," Rin said. So the Grail did grant wishes. Forgetting the situation for a moment, she leaned forward excitedly. "So is that the extent of what a Servant gets in exchange for winning? Power?"

"No, child," said the Archer, and Rin saw its helmet was gone, unraveling into golden dust that quickly dissipated into the air. The revealed head had a long, flowing mane of golden hair, a face that looked like it belonged to the silver screen, and a blasé air about it that seemed at odds with the power it exuded.

"You…! But you're not—Are you really—?" Saber gasped, eyes disbelieving.

"Yes it is indeed I. And as I no longer have a need to keep it secret, I shall now declare that I am he whom you knew as Archer, who is Gilgamesh, who is Great, who is the First, who is the King of all Heroes that were and will be."

"But… a woman—I remember—you weren't—are you like Shirou too?"

"Saber, Saber," said Gilgamesh, wagging a finger. She tossed her hair back, smiling. "I just told you. I was the First. It claimed me while I was but a babe, as I wrestled my teachers to the ground. Many dared blaspheme me for stealing their women, but I was each and every one of my people's firsts—they belonged to me, after all. Why do you think Ishtar pursued me? She was jealous, and at the same time desiring, of my beauty. I achieved the pinnacle of the Contract's gift; this power you beheld is but a fraction of what I possessed. Unlike this worthless parody of a hero you see here beside me, I am the genuine article, worthy of legend. That is why they called me King of Heroes, o lord of knights."

"Again, a woman," Rin murmured to herself, before shaking her head. "But if you didn't wish it of the Grail, then how can a Servant still exist from the last war? Don't tell me your so-called 'Contract' can sustain you that long."

Gilgamesh seemed to hesitate, a little of his hauteur fading, looking down at Rin as if realizing she was still there. "The system of this War would never allow—could never accommodate heroes of the Contract. I do not know of the case of others, but in summoning me, the system ensured I would never be in full power, relegating my memories as a hero to the side." Saber shifted, and Gilgamesh flicked a sneer at her. "You and all those others would never have survived if I had remembered then, Saber."

The swordswoman stared back unflinchingly.

"And then came the Grail and its… minor malfunction," he continued. At that, the priest quickly signaled to Gilgamesh.

"I feel that is a topic best left to the true winners of this War, Gilgamesh." The King of Heroes smirked as the priest rose from his seat.

"Whoa—wait, what do you mean malfunction? What's wrong with the Grail? Is there a defect in the system?" asked Rin.

"Rin," said Saber after a silence in which neither Gilgamesh nor Kirei spoke. "The truth of the matter is—"

"Choose your next words with care, Servant Saber." Kirei's demeanor hadn't changed, but the way he said it made the undercurrent of a threat apparent. "You are giving valuable information to an enemy."

Saber frowned. "I'm not _your_ Servant," she said defiantly.

"Be that as it may, in this form I am still the mediator and as such I would advise you that certain truths must never be revealed to those whose minds aren't ready," Kirei said firmly. "An underhanded, dishonorable tactic like that would… unfairly jeopardize the War in favor of your Master."

Rin exploded. "What crap are you spewing you cross-dressing heretic? I'm ready for whatever surprises you can throw at me." She turned to the blonde swordsman. "Saber?"

The Servant glanced once more at the duo of "heroes", pursing her lips. Even Saber seemed to have hesitated now.

Suddenly, Gilgamesh sighed. "It's not like it matters anymore." He turned to Kirei. "We don't need to be stingy. You also don't have to be such a fussing mother to your little Grail, Kotomine." He grinned, showing perfect, pearlescent teeth. "Not when it's left home as suddenly as that."

Left home…? Rin repeated her thought aloud, as did Saber, who scowled at Gilgamesh suspiciously.

"What do you mean by that?"

The white-clad priest made a show of reflecting, twirling a finger through a lock of hair. Then he said with a formal air: "As of last night, Tosaka Rin, the Holy Grail has disappeared from Fuyuki. Its whereabouts are currently unknown."

* * *

Traces of Damocles still lingered in the sky in red floating chunks, and a number of searchlights scanned the anomaly relentlessly, like giant white stalks waving in the air. Several helis patrolled the area. Back in his normal, albeit spiritual form, Archer felt a shadow of the dread that had gripped him then as he observed the fractured structure.

He brushed the feeling away. It was meaningless to think on the "consequences" of that act, as that priest said. Whether or not the Damocles' image would inspire its true summoning further on into the future, humanity would still send forth its heroes, each of whom would carry the burden upon their backs. The more important question then was: would they succeed where Archer failed?

Archer turned back from the window, stepping away from the moonlight that shone through. He ghosted through the corridor, passing through the entryway into the vestibule. He then did a double-take, staring down at the creature that he'd almost stepped on.

"Hello kitty," Archer mumbled. The small, black cat mewled once before padding away. Was that Kirei keeping pets now?

A loud cry came, which made Archer instantly tense and hurtle through the corridors back to where Rin was. A series of high, muffled shouts followed, and Archer began preparing a projection in his mind before he burst through the door.

"Master-!" He stopped abruptly at the threshold.

"-can't honestly expect me to believe the Holy Grail just up and grew two legs and then fricking waltzed away!" Rin was on her feet, gesturing and pointing wildly at the white pseudo-nun. The table was upended on the ground, along with shattered china and their cooling contents. "In what kind of universe does that picture make sense? It's a ritual tied to the Tosaka lands! Things like that can't be moved, if at all! The moon might as well just stroll down to Earth every couple of centuries if that was so!"

"I tell the truth, Rin," the priest replied calmly. "Why would I lie to you?"

"Don't bullshit me, Kirei! What the heck do you think you're planning by trying to sell me that lie? I wasn't born yesterday!"

Archer did a quick sweep of the room, pinpointing Saber and the annoyance's positions in the room. Lancer didn't seem to be here, though he had caught the blue-clad warrior leaving through a side door some time ago.

"You are incredibly loud and uncouth and annoying, little girl," said Gilgamesh (who was oddly still smiling). "And not in a good way, like my little precious. I have half a mind to sew your mouth shut with the most exquisite threads."

"Calm down, Rin," said Archer, and bit a mental lip when Rin turned to shoot him a sharp look. "And you, please do not antagonize my Master." The woman-faced King turned to look at him with open, venomous amusement.

"As a priest, I am forbidden to lie, Rin," Kirei continued. "I do not know what means The Grail used in fleeing, but I and Gilgamesh—and your Servant, as well— may know the reason why it did so."

"Archer does…?" He looked from Gilgamesh to Kirei, who was doing a near-convincing job of looking innocent, then to the curious Saber then back to Rin.

Damn it, I won't give you this, you heretic, he thought.

So he shut up.

In his silence, Rin said tersely: "How would my Archer have done that? Explain, Kirei, or I call bullshit again."

"Do you remember that thing summoned above the city?"

"Yeah. So? Wait," said Rin abruptly, throwing up a hand. "Don't tell me—"

"Indeed," said Kirei. "Your Servant was responsible for summoning that construct here."

"But that's impossible! Archer couldn't possibly have the power to pull that off!" Ouch. "Unless it's… it was his signature weapon…" Questioning eyes now turned back to him. Rin definitely remembered his weird behavior regarding the binding of her "sight'.

His Master looked like she wanted him to lay it all out right there, but his memories of the girl didn't seem to be false yet when she gave him a small nod that indicated they would speak of it more later. And she _would_ have the answers if she had to rip it from his mouth.

He was suspicious, though, of the priest and Gilgamesh's silence regarding his transformation. What were the two planning…?

"'The end of all'…" Gilgamesh said. "Once again, I commend you, fraud. To hold that image, even if it is but a pale image, of that ancient weapon and summon it is a formidable act in itself. That it holds a brief, yet solidified existence is another."

"Okay, so let's say my Archer _did_ do that, summoning that—" Rin gulped, and the act seemed to mortify her, "—thing. Setting that aside, what has this got to do with the Grail disappearing?"

"It fled," said Archer now, and all eyes turned to him. This was one explanation he could make here. "The 'Damocles'—though it has a true, alien name I can't pronounce—is an object related to an apocalypse that is not of this world."

"_The_ Apocalypse?" asked Rin. She glanced at Kirei.

"_An _apocalypse. In my opinion, there exist many. It'ss a construct of unknown origins, said to be a lost race's last, desperate weapon before its demise. It houses a lot of magical properties with a destructive bent—I call it an "AMD": an artifact of mass destruction."

"So you lived through one such apocalypse?" asked Kirei, eyes curious and mirthful.

Archer didn't answer that, instead opting to continue addressing Rin: "The mere image of such a thing has a curious connection with the human psyche. I assume you had a feeling of slight uncertainty when you saw it for the first time, right Rin?" His Master nodded briefly, mouth set in a thin line. The fact that she had agreed meant Rin had been unsettled by Damocles more than she let on—and refused to fully acknowledge that feeling in true Tosaka fashion. "Even if it's not the real thing, the mere appearance of an object like that on Earth is enough to trigger alarm bells in most humans. I suppose it would be a sort of genetic memory: though the weapon by itself exudes such a promise of menace to those who see it that terror is the first thing in their minds."

"And the Grail, a mystery true, but a man-made mystery at its core, had no different a reaction," Kirei finished for him. Rude priest. "It fled to a place unknown, but you have my earnest assurances as mediator that it shall be returned to Fuyuki so that we may continue the War."

Archer's gaze hardened, looking over to Saber. The blonde knight took a moment before staring right back, face fixed in a cool, marble-like intensity.

"How are you going to do that—" Rin began to ask. Archer tuned the rest of the conversation out, eyes wandering from Saber's to take on a thoughtful, faraway look.

There were only three Servants left to the War, if a War had to be fought. Three, plus one extra, assuming Gilgamesh decided to act. The unspoken cease-fire between the three remaining classes would not last long, and Archer had a sore feeling that if it would all come to a head, Saber would triumph over the two knights.

Not only did Saber have a weapon and skill that he'd only ever aspired to emulate in his life, she now had a Master involved with the blasted Contract. And while Archer had the same relationship with his Master, only reversed, it would only be a two against one bloodbath, if he were being a realist. But the idealist in him recognized (and humiliatingly at that) that Emiya Shirou would not take that route because _he_ knew he used to dislike taking that route—which made the current situation all the more confusing. It wouldn't be Saber versus Archer—assuming Kirei was still Kirei.

Something would then have to be done with the prodigal Grail, a role Archer knew either Rin or Emiya Shirou would undertake, as long as they stuck to what he knew about them. Rin, who didn't know of the Grail's true nature yet, would come to the same conclusion as Emiya Shirou when she did. That only left the matter of Lancer and its Master— a fact which Saber knew and strangely didn't act on but one that Rin didn't. Should he tell his Master?

When Archer's eyes wandered back to Saber, he was surprised to see the knight's face contort. Sharpening his focus, he saw Saber's body trembling, as if something was hurting her from the inside out.

"Saber. What's wrong with you?" All sounds ceased as everyone now looked at the convulsing Servant.

"It's Shirou. He's awake..!"

* * *

The door slams shut behind Tosaka Rin and Saber.

The King of Heroes turns back to contemplate the world through the window, as if Archer and Kirei no longer existed.

Kirei moves to follow the two women into the room, but pauses, turning to regard the knight in red.

"You wonder why we did not mention your involvement with the Contract?"

The knight starts, expression hardening into steel.

"I am not interested in you, and any intrigue involving you, faker," says the glittering king, dismissively. "Your secrets, even that device you summoned, hold no value to me."

"That is your prerogative, as 'King of Heroes'," the priest tells the King. The beautiful face gazes back at the Archer. "Whereas I find value in things I find… interesting.

"I did not tell your Master, Servant Archer, first because you adhered to its will to withhold the real reasons for the Grail's disappearance, while at the same time indirectly allowing 'something' to be born. The second reason is because I am guilty of violating a Commandment concerning the conversation which I am covetous of having with another who has lived through a War—a War that surely happened but was not my own to witness." A glitter of something like excitement is in the fake nun's eyes. "Though… since even a Servant as powerful has a mind that's easily molded, there's really no need to be cautious."

"You—so that's why—"

She waves her hand, as if to mean _think nothing of it_.

He cannot find himself agreeing with that sentiment.

"It is _your _prerogative if you wish to tell your Master, Archer—only, before you do that…

"Please do entertain me for even a little while—

"—Emiya Shirou."

* * *

Berserker was gone.

She knows, with a certainty born of knowledge, that he is forever with her now—intertwined with all the rest who had fallen.

Yet oddly, she cannot have time to mourn.

Presented with two gifts, she chose the one of lesser value.

She saved her brother, choosing to value him over all the other things she was supposed to do.

Now Berserker was gone, and all that is left of her is the foreign need of desire.

And though she knows that at this point she can never truly go back to the way things were, she—who had lost the petty emotion long ago—places a tiny hope, the entirety of it, in her brother. (who was also, at the same time, a sister, now wasn't that convenient)

Shirou will—no, _must_ become—her one and only solace.

She traces the curves of his face with a cold, thin finger, fascinated by the roughness that contrasted its smooth appearance.

Pale skin hides beneath the covers, clothed in a bare, almost transparent children's nightwear that the Church mediator had on hand.

She marvels at the magecraft that makes such a transformation possible.

The totality of Emiya Shirou baffles her, for she does not really know of him as nothing but the one "that" man chose, the Master of Saber, the girl that fought her Berserker, and the girl that futilely saved her.

Shirou does not hum so much as thrum with an unseen undercurrent of power, which Illya feels elevate when his eyes flutter open.

They stare at each other, Illya inexplicably finding she cannot find the proper words of greeting.

She is then slightly disappointed when Shirou's first reaction is to scream.

* * *

After calming down (and Saber, Tosaka and someone who looked like a nun entered the room), I had a chance to take stock of my immediate surroundings.

"Um… where are my clothes?" I said, looking down.

No wonder it felt so drafty when I woke up.

"They had been damaged considerably, Master," said Saber, who stood opposite of Illyasviel.

"And luckily, this guy had some spare clothes hidden away somewhere," said Rin, jabbing a finger at the nun

"Thanks, I guess," I said in a mumble, my body fidgeting.

It wasn't that it was uncomfortable, but right then I just felt weird wearing girl clothes, especially ones that felt really silky and smooth against my skin.

And then I realized I was still transformed.

I needed to be rid of it for the moment.

I looked around at my silent onlookers, three of whom knew my secret already.

As for the fourth—

"Excuse me," I said, looking at the nun. "But could I get my clothes back please?"

"I'm afraid they're of no condition to use right now, Emiya Shirou."

"I'd still like them, please."

"Why're you insisting on them so much, Emiya-kun?" Tosaka asked. "There's no way—"

"Sorry, but I just need them," I pleaded, looking back to the nun. There was another reason for it, and that was to get this nun away while I transformed back—no one else should know the secret. "Even if it's just the cloth—even if they're destroyed."

For some reason, the nun seemed greatly amused by this, pulling out a knife from somewhere and, completely suddenly, tore off a sleeve of her clothes from the elbow down.

As I sat on the bed staring open-mouthed at her action, the nun raised a hand, as if she were starting to make the sign of the cross, and muttered, "Abate."

"That's-!"

Standing right in the nun's place was the priest from before, Kotomine Kirei.

From white to black.

"If you were worried about your ability to transform back, Emiya Shirou, then do not worry." "He" hefted the torn sleeve, looking oddly satisfied. "Feel free to transform back whenever you want to."

"H-h-how—y-y-but—you're a hero too?"

"See Kirei? Even a hero like you's surprised too. And Emiya-kun's known you for just under an hour," said Tosaka, who shook her head.

The priest smiled, tucking the stray sleeve away.

"If it is no trouble, you should transform back now that you may feel more comfortable to discuss some things with everyone here."

"Huh…" I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that the priest who'd tried and spooked me after receiving an explanation on the Holy Grail turned out to be someone who was also involved with hero work.

For that matter, was he even a hero with that vibe he'd been giving off?

"Yeah, okay."

And uttering the words of release, I was back to Emiya Shirou (M).

I stretched my body, untucking my now longer legs from the covers.

I felt a dull pain in my abdomen and back, but otherwise, everything felt fine in my old body.

And my normal everyday clothes were still undamaged, by some miracle.

"That feels a lot better," I said, blinking my eyes and catching Illyasviel's eye.

I looked at Saber. "Could you tell me what happened, Saber? I remember hiding out at the place you asked me to, and then the rest… is blank."

All of them, well Saber and Rin at least, shared a look.

"Emiya-kun, you say you don't remember anything after that?"

"No," I said uncertainly. "I was at the hiding place, preparing to transform once Saber gave the signal, then all of a sudden there was black, and when I woke up, I saw Illya.

"Oh, sorry, _Illyasviel-san_," I amended, smiling quickly at the girl.

"He was hidden far from where we fought that magus…" Saber whispered to Tosaka, who pursed her lips and glanced at a pensive Kotomine.

"What's going on? What did happen? I mean… I sure don't remember transforming but I did right? Did I do anything?"

Saber took a deep breath, before crossing her hands behind her and nodding.

I saw anxiety in her face—the first I've ever seen in the blonde swordsman.

"It is no longer of any concern, Master. What's important in the here and now is that you're safe."

That didn't totally reassure me, and I resolved to get more answers if I could.

Something bugged me about Tosaka's and Saber's behavior, and even Illyasviel's expressionless gaze and the priest's silence was telling me I was out of the loop.

"Well setting that aside," I offered in the silence that followed. "What's going on? What happened while I was out then, Saber?"

"A _lot _of things…" Tosaka said then trailed off.

"Pardon?"

"I was involved in some battles, Master," said Saber matter-of-factly. "A result from those was—"

"She killed my Berserker," Illyasviel said suddenly.

"Huh?" I looked from Saber to the girl.

"She killed my Berserker," the short girl repeated simply.

Saber frowned, and I was still trying to imagine the method which made it possible for her to win against that guy whom I was sure I couldn't beat in my best days.

Whatever it was though, it meant in the end that Saber was a really strong Servant.

I should feel lucky for having her.

"That's… good…?" The girl wrinkled her face, something like displeasure finally showing on it.

Maybe that wasn't something I should've said out loud.

She was probably upset because of Berserker's death.

But a part of me felt relieved, because such a child shouldn't be fighting in something like the Grail War at all in the first place.

"No, onii-chan! It's bad! It means I'm not a Master anymore, and it's all your Servant's fault."

"What's your problem?" asked Tosaka. "You knew the risks going in—you're an Einzbern to boot. You can't just throw a tantrum just because your Servant died, kid."

"Shut up, Tosaka! I'm not a child! I'm eighteen for heaven's sake!"

Eighteen? That seemed hard to believe. Did that mean she was older than me?

I glanced at Kirei. Well, looks can be deceiving.

"Hmph. Eighteen or not, that's still really childish of you. And that sort of attitude isn't allowed in this War. Are you a magus or not?"

Illyasviel stood up from her stool, pointing angrily at Rin. "You're the child here, Tosaka! An adult must take responsibility for his actions—and by extension the actions of any subordinate under them. Many people told me so, and I agree! So onii-chan has to take responsibility for his Saber my Berserker!"

"What sort of thinking is that?" Tosaka shot back. "That's not even close to remotely appropriate in _this _situation you pretentious Einzbern brat!"

"Long-legged slut!"

"Wha—how dare you, you flat board!"

"Showing off with that kind of skirt, you're not fooling anyone with that brazen display—!"

"Oh, this kid—this kid—you're really asking for it—!"

"Now, now, Tosaka, Illyasviel-san," I quickly broke in, just as it looked like they were about to throw things at each other.

Saber, the capable Servant, didn't look like she knew what to do.

"While I agree the death was an unfortunate but necessary effect of the War," I began, "It's not too bad of a thought to expect to give and demand reparations. I'm not a real magus, so I don't know how things work, Tosaka, but please allow me to take up Illyasviel-san's demand. There. That should be fine for the two of you right?"

I could almost swear Illyasviel had stuck her tongue out secretly at Tosaka, though it must've been my tired imagination.

The girl turned to me, face now glowing with a burst of pleasure.

"Yay! As I thought, onii-chan really understands me!"

"…You're an idiot, Emiya-kun."

"Master, I would caution against anything she might demand," said Saber.

"It's fine, Saber. So? What do I need to do to make up for Berserker, Illyasviel-san?" It wouldn't be that bad, I thought. And I wasn't stupid enough to accept anything dangerous.

"It's really simple, onii-chan," she said, and to my discomfort, she leaned in close, our faces nearly touching.

"Uhhh…"

"You just need to say, right now, that you'll protect me and take care of me from this moment on."

"Wha—wait, no Emiya-kun—what are you trying to pull you midget Einzbern?"

I looked at Tosaka with confusion, who had now approached the bedside and looked like she was trying to take Illyasviel off from me.

"Oh, don't interfere you noisy magus. If you want to complain, complain to onii-chan."

"Be careful with what you say, Emiya-kun—"

"What is going on, Rin? Is she a threat?" asked Saber.

"So, onii-chan, do you accept?" Her voice had gone down to a small, somewhat bewitching whisper. "I'm terribly alone without Berserker—you wouldn't just leave me out in the cold right? I need someone who'll just protect me, at least until the War is over. I can't trust that priest to give me asylum. So, onii-chan, do you accept?"

"Well—" I said, scratching my head. "I guess it's fine—if it's like that."

"… you're really an idiot, Emiya-kun."

I raised a brow at Tosaka, and not an instant later, something warm latched on to my neck, and Illyasviel began pulling at it a tad painfully.

"Yay yay yay! Onii-chan said yes, onii-chan said yes!" Tosaka sighed, though I had no reason why.

There didn't seem to be anything malicious from what the girl was asking.

And also, I couldn't just turn down someone who looked like they needed help.

If Saber had really defeated Berserker, then she was really alone (as far as I knew).

"Thanks very much, onii-chan! I promise you won't regret it!" She was still clinging to my neck.

"Y-y-yeah it's no problem… just… could you let go of me for a bit Illyasviel-san?" She didn't comply.

"No, you may call me Illya, onii-chan! Illya is fine with 'Illya'!"

"I really hope you know what you're getting into, Emiya-kun," said Tosaka, giving me a look of pity.

"Illyasviel," Saber said, gazing grimly at the girl, "For the oath I owe my Master, I shall withhold my reservations and hope that he has a better judgment of you than I. But know this—I will not suffer treachery of any kind."

Tosaka massaged her forehead and muttered repeatedly, as if holding back some sort of painful headache.

"Well… revenge isn't really my cup of tea. And… it's really none of my business at the moment what that idiot decides anyway. Me and my Archer are still an active pair."

I stiffened. Right, there was still the War going on.

It made me wonder what Rin was doing here still. Wouldn't a magus have eliminated me while I was weak like this?

I caught sight of Saber beside me. Oh, right.

"I was here too, onii-chan," Illya chirped. "Ever since I woke up, I've been sitting here by your side. Rin would never have gotten past both Saber and me."

"Oh," I said, blinking at the strange girl that was still clinging to me like a barnacle. "Thanks."

Wait, what…? How did she…

"You've got a lot of nerve acting like a spoiled brat, Einzbern," Tosaka then said coldly. "It was the Berserker you cried so much for that caused the death of a dozen people tonight."

My insides suddenly felt cold.

I felt Illya jerk beside me, as Saber's gaze hardened and focused on her.

I found myself bowing, trying to contain the images my seemingly sadistic mind was putting in front of me.

"Those people were in the wrong place at the wrong time," Illya mumbled. "Collateral damage—and I honestly didn't expect Berserker to cause those results."

"No you were definitely looking to cause _some_ damage."

"Oh, please. It's too late to pull the morality card on me, Rin. Can you honestly say you and your Archer wouldn't have done the same if it benefited you at the time?"

"He _hasn't_. _I _haven't. There's a big difference, Einzbern."

"It was accidental!" Illya insisted again. "Surely even your mind can accept that!? Look, even Saber's not saying anything because she has an idea what it's like, right Saber?"

"Do _not _presume to know me, Einzbern, what I've been—" Saber began wrathfully, before she closed her mouth, and I could see the fierce emotions warring in her expression.

An uncomfortable silence followed.

Tosaka threw her head back, as if dismissing the issue. "Well whatever. It'd be hypocritical of me to demand justice as I am… I just hope your 'onii-chan' not as oblivious as I pray he's not."

"I'm not, Tosaka," I said a little ruefully. "But as for what Illya did—when I look back at it, it didn't really seem like it was intended." I looked down at the girl beside me. "Illya, do you regret what you and Berserker did?"

"Yes," she said promptly.

I managed to ignore Tosaka's disbelieving snort while I continued. "Well, I'm not in a position to speak or forgive you for the people who… died, but just know that I'll accept you, Illya. We can then just work towards paying off the debt you owe to them."

Illya's hold tightened, and she did some jumping motions repeatedly that threatened to drag me off the bed.

"Thank you, thank you onii-chan! I'll work hard, I promise! It will never happen again!"

Another sigh from Tosaka. "That's really naïve, Emiya-kun. And here I thought you'd stick your swords up everybody who did wrong—since you're a hero and all."

"I aim to be a hero, not a killer, Tosaka." At least, that was what I hoped.

But the truth that nobody knew but me was that I had killed thrice already.

–Tonight had been the third time I'd "failed", and as a result, "killed"—

No—

I shouldn't get bogged down by dark thoughts like this.

A hero must always face forward.

"I said it before, but I accepted joining this War to end it any way I could, and not kill any Masters if I could help it."

Saber made as if to speak, but furrowed her brows and looked away.

Tosaka made a face that I couldn't identify: it was maybe a mix of exasperation, pity and something else.

Illya had looked on, or rather, kept looking at me, and when I stopped talking, she closed her eyes and murmured something I couldn't hear.

Kotomine Kirei, who had been silent since his unnerving reveal, now reminded everyone of his presence. "I'm sorry to put an end to a… fascinating atmosphere, but there are things you, all of you, have to be aware of."

"Wait, could I have a moment?" I said, raising my hand. When the priest let me continue with a gesture, I said, "If it's not too much of a bother to ask: how are _you_ a hero?"

"Exactly what I was wondering," said Tosaka.

"It would perhaps be more apt for you to answer that question first, Emiya Shirou." Me? Why are you throwing it back at me? "More specifically, when had you started to accept the Contract's call—and how you came to possess a Mark of Disgrace so early in your career."

I shivered at the end of the priest's words, nervously clenching my fists.

"What weird tangent are you going off now, Kirei?"

Shit.

Had he seen that?

It made sense though, being a fellow hero and all—but why did he have to go and mention it?

I cleared my throat, catching everyone's attention. "Y-y-you're right. I guess I can ask some other time." I gulped. "You were saying something about the Grail…?"

I made a subtle look around, seeing Saber and Tosaka look at me with interest and Illya tilting her head and looking at a spot on my ear as if she found something curious about its shape.

That was too close.

"First, Emiya Shirou," he gestured, after smiling without any real warmth. "During the period you were unconscious, you were subject to several wounds that were almost fatal. It was perhaps a miracle that you had bonded with the Contract at that time so you were able to heal quickly, though it was almost not enough to save you from death. It was good that you were taken to me in time—" he glanced at Tosaka almost discreetly, "—for me to begin healing you."

"Oh, thanks very much," I said, bowing. Well, at least I had to be grateful to this guy for helping me. "What exactly happened to me, though?" I glanced around.

"You were attacked by an enemy Servant," Saber said. "And once again, I apologize for my lack of judgment. Please accept this humble remonstrance, Master."

"It's alright Saber. I mean, the important thing is that I'm still alive right?" Tosaka sighed again.

"That's not the point, idiot. You were ambushed by something beyond you, while you were separated from your Servant, and to top it all off, you blacked out on the whole experience. It's really a remarkable stroke of luck you're still alive."

"Well—"

"Rin, that was also my responsibility. It was I who underestimated the threat of Rider and her ally. The wisest course should have been to withdraw as Archer had done with you. I shall not fail again."

"It is water under the bridge," Kirei interjected. "What matters most is that you have survived to see another dawn."

"Why did you help me though? Aren't you supposed to be neutral?"

"There were certain circumstances involved in the battle which necessitated my intervention," Kotomine explained evenly. "Healing you was my own choice, most obviously because I saw you were a fellow hero, and also due to an unusual, unprecedented event that occurred right at the battle's end."

I raised an eyebrow in question, seeing Tosaka frown and Saber stare at the ground meditatively.

"What was it?"

"Your goal in the Holy Grail War: the Holy Grail itself, has been stolen."

The silence was deafening.

"Seriously?" I—and Tosaka—said at the same time.

I glanced towards her, deferring to her to ask the priest to elaborate.

Was such a thing even possible?

"You God-damned priest! Earlier you said it 'left'. Now it's 'stolen'?"

"It is perhaps presumptuous of me to declare such, when I do not truly know what happened to the Holy Grail. I apologize." He raised an arm, as if going on a lecture like a teacher. "But stolen, or leaving of its own will—in either case, the result is still the same. The Holy Grail is gone. It has not been destroyed or broken down. It has simply disappeared from its place in this city, without a clue as to where it's gone."

"The priest is telling the truth, idiot Rin," said Illya, sighing.

"Why do you say that, Illya?" I asked her now, trying to head off a Tosakan outburst.

"I have a… special connection with the Grail, onii-chan. I know, just a bit, where and how it is." She buried her face in the crook of my shoulder. "It's still in the world, somewhere out there."

How was Illya connected with the Grail?

"I believe he speaks the truth too, Rin—Master. Without the Grail, we would not be able to exist. The fact that I am still here means Kotomine Kirei is at least right about the Grail's existence."

"Well… yeah… I kind of figured that was the case just from Archer alone… but one can never really be sure with recalcitrant liars…"

"An embarrassing state of affairs, to be sure," Kirei continued. "Especially for I who am the mediator. There will be questions, no doubt from interested parties, and it is mortifying to admit to each of them that I have no idea about what exactly happened to the Grail to make it disappear." He wrung his hands.

"So what does that mean for the War, I mean…" I looked at Saber, then at Illya, and then to Rin. "Is it forfeit or something?"

"No," the priest said, and this time he chuckled. What was so funny? "As long as at least two Servants remain, the War goes on. However, you are right in implying that the War's status has undergone a temporary change."

"Don't tell me—" said Tosaka, placing her hands on her hips. "It's postponed right? I mean, there isn't a precedent for that from previous Wars I guess, but isn't that the one recourse you've got?"

"Thank you Rin. That's precisely what I was getting at." He stood to full height, looking almost solemnly from Rin to me before declaring in a flat, formal tone, as if he were reciting a Christian rite, "Masters of the Holy Grail War—as Mediator, I now declare the War Suspended, until such time as the anomalous event which has led to its suspension has been solved. Until the Suspension is lifted, there shall be no outward hostile acts between Master and Master, Master and Servant, and Servant and Servant." He then discarded his manner of speaking, and continued, "The event being, as you know, the Grail's disappearance."

"So what are we supposed to do then?" I said after a brooding silence, and glanced at Saber. "I mean, do we just sit tight?"

"Yes, unfortunately," said Tosaka, sighing. "In the meantime, Kirei has to go and have this normally impossible thing investigated. Maybe even personally, eh?"

"That _is_ what I said, Rin, but I did add that there was another way which might prove expedient for you Masters."

"Another way?" I asked.

He turned to smile at me. I was a bit taken aback at the intensity in the look he was giving me.

"Yes, Emiya Shirou.

"Remember, Masters, that this is a secret war. Only the association and the Church—as well as possibly their constituents and other supernatural beings—are aware of it. There are certain other notable organizations existing that are unaware of the war, much less the capabilities of the Holy Grail."

"It'd be bad if they discovered it," I said.

"Yes, very good, Emiya Shirou. You're sharp as a blade."

"Really?" I heard Tosaka mutter.

"And not just them—the rest of humanity is also unprepared and unaware that such a thing exists. It would be disastrous if any of them were to discover it—possibly unleashing something they do not understand. There are a lot of consequences to the Grail leaving Fuyuki City, not the least of which might be its summoning of more Servants in another area, bringing chaos to a city or town unprepared for such a happenstance."

"We'll need to recover it, then," I said.

"And quickly," said Kirei, nodding.

He then raised his hand skyward, saying, "I, the hero," and in a flash of dust he was "her" once more.

"The fact that you're a hero," said the girl in her new voice, "—is almost a miracle in itself, Emiya Shirou. I believe you already know what I'm getting at?"

I stared at the priest, wondering what he meant.

Wondering why he transformed just like that in the middle of his speech—

Oh.

"No!" Saber said suddenly, stepping forward. "You cannot be thinking of getting Shirou to perform your duties for you?"

"I will be on the move, investigating as well, Servant Saber," he said smoothly. "I am merely giving your Master the choice to expedite the process. Who knows what kind of disaster he could prevent by helping?"

"So that's why he never interfered… maybe…?" Illya whispered in my ear. "Ah!" she then shouted suddenly.

"Illya?" I asked, wondering at the girl's behavior.

She looked from me to Kotomine rapidly, eyes furrowed. Finally she smirked coldly at the priest. "You're too slimy for your own good, priest."

The white nun shrugged, and I blinked one too many times seeing "his"… protrusions jiggle up and down from the gesture. Did she not have a bra in her battle-wear? Or know enough reinforcement augmentation to keep those things stable?

It made me hope I'd be flat forever.

"So? I assume you already know what I ask of you, Emiya Shirou. Would you, in your role as the hidden hero, the savior unseen, rescuer in the shadows—will you help retrieve the Grail and return it to its rightful place? Will you prevent disaster and mayhem?"

I flinched at that word, when it triggered in my mind's eye a great image of burning.

"Urgh…" I rubbed my head, feeling a bout of nausea settle.

"Master?"

"Please don't mind, Saber," I said, opening my eyes. "It's nothing."

A leaden weight seemed to have settled amidst the pain in my belly.

"By the way, why are you forgetting about me, Kirei?" said Tosaka, and to emphasize her point, she waved a hand in front of the priest.

"By all means, help if you wish, Rin," said Kirei calmly. "But as your guardian I am naturally reluctant in sending my ward to dangerous, unfamiliar territory. I do not understate the dangers you would face, the risks you would have to take."

Illya sniffed, tickling my ear a bit, "But you're okay with sending onii-chan away."

"He has the power to handle it, Illyasviel von Einzbern. Hopefully."

"And I don't!?"

The sprite clinging to me cocked a head. "Huh, good point."

"You… you…" Tosaka looked like she wanted to go on the warpath.

"What is your decision, Emiya Shirou?" Kirei's voice cut through the high tension in the room. He gazed at me intently. "You may refuse if it is your choice. It is merely a request, from one hero to another. Should you choose otherwise, you are free to recuperate and prepare for the Grail's return along with your Servant."

Of course, I'd decided long before Tosaka and Ilya had begun their argument.

"Shirou?"

There would be no deliberation on matters like this.

Emiya Shirou aspired to, was, and would always be a hero.

"Emiya-kun?"

Only… what would happen to Saber? I thought, as I gently slid Illya off me, threw away the covers, and shuffled to the bedside.

Would our link work across a long distance?

"Master…?"

And what of Illya?

Perhaps Saber wouldn't mind guarding her, in my place.

Resolving to ensure those details were covered later, I produced my faithful slag of metal.

I stepped gingerly on the floor, finding the dull aches in my body had yet to stop.

In the end, was there every any doubt?

Did my hesitation make any sense at all?

There was no need to choose when there was a predetermined outcome, which made Kotomine's words a bit useless.

"_I shall be a hero_."

* * *

Archer pushed off from the door, eyes gazing intently into space.

He needed some time to think. The events that were unfolding had too much unknowns in it, and even his archer's eyes could not see its end.

Sunlight filled the corner of his vision, stirring Archer from his immersions.

He saw Gilgamesh shrouded in a cloak of gold dust.

"What the hell?"

A small flash later, and Gilgamesh was back to the Gilgamesh he remembered—male, ferocious, and cocky. The grin was still there on his face, as though it never left.

"It looks like the world has had enough of me, little faker."

"?" The former Servant turned to him, expression seemingly gleeful. The dust was swirling throughout the room now, as if someone had opened the door to let a sandstorm in.

"The mere moment I had that disgusting filth purified from this body and the world already sees fit to get rid of me. Me! As if I was little more than an unsightly insect. I suppose this is this body's limit—rules I did not make myself are certainly annoying to follow."

Archer kept silent, letting the man speak more to himself.

"So ends the tale of this Gilgamesh. I searched for what I wanted and obtained nothing, and years after I searched for nothing and obtained everything. I suppose it is not too unreasonable a compromise: to sacrifice myself for one moment of sheer glory. But damned if it wasn't enough. All too brief, like a mongrel's dying breath."

Gilgamesh lurched forward, bringing his face close to Archer's. "Do you know how it feels, little forger, to hold pieces of infinity in your grasp and find it lacking? To remember a time of greatness, and know it can never be yours—until the 'me' back there remembers the Contract as well? No, you don't. You're just a pale, slimy grub. Beholding only the dirt before you.

"Damn it all!" he roared, slamming his fist through the wall. Archer stood his ground, though he was prepared to leap aside if the man decided to attack. "Not—not yet—you cannot take this from me! I am Gilgamesh, First and Greatest! This world should have been mine, forever and always! Mine! Mine! MINE! I cannot afford to leave this pathetic world in its state: a warren of filthy, cannibalistic vermin! Not—yet…"

The man's eyes lost and regained focus repeatedly, as if he were alternating between consciousness and unconsciousness.

"Gilgamesh?" asked a voice behind him, and Archer turned to see the female priest, his Master, Saber, Illya—and _him._

"Aahh…my precious, precious Saber… fate kept you from me then, and keeps me from claiming you now… Will you not take pity on a starving man, and offer me fruits of succor?" Saber stiffened as if preparing for battle, and did not look away.

"You. Woman. Your Servant will break himself as he is. I would have dearly loved to see the expression on your face when it happens." Rin looked livid.

"Kotomine… you were a liar to the end. I suppose gratitude is in order, for entertaining me all these years, but the impotence of it all in the end infuriates me, and I do not wish you well." The priest smiled.

Gilgamesh was visibly gasping now, clutching a hand to the front of his armor. He next turned to the boy, who was a girl, who was staring at him in the matter of a fearful fawn. He staggered forward towards him, which made Saber slide forward and interpose herself before the boy. Gilgamesh saw the gesture, and laughed.

"Aahhh… the wingless grub. I would tear your body apart as payment for freeing you and for keeping Saber from me, but it seems 'it' does not want to. So accept this curse, that you may live to follow the true King's will.

"Spread the word among all those you call 'heroes'. Grow your misshapen wings you worthless, wingless grubs. Do not have cause to make me regret giving up on immortality long ago—and prove that this world was worth bequeathing on the lesser. Awaken all those indolent, useless Kotomines. Prove that this whole mass of flesh was ever worth saving, that in the end our sacrifices had merit."

And saying thus, Gilgamesh turned about and strode to the door, as if he'd suddenly decided to take a walk. "Too soon… too soon… The glory fades, and all, even the serpent, is dust in the end… so much dust…" His voice began to fade, as if it came from the end of a very long corridor. "One day, I shall remember… one day I shall break the chains and lead all that came after in a glorious charge… one day we shall all return, from all places and from all times, at the head of a host of billions—and that day, little faker, will be the true end: the judgment of the world… when fate will be decided not by the caprices of greater things, but by the will of we who are bound…in blood…"

And before his eyes, the King of Heroes winked out like a distant star at dawn.

* * *

She wakes.

"Oh, I had almost forgotten about you. My most sincere apologies."

She stretches in the manner of a cat, forcing the frozen blood to move.

"Kirei, who are you talking to—oh, uh, please excuse my rudeness."

She flexes fingers that have remained closed for a long while.

"Oh? Good evening, Shiki-san! What brings you… here…"

She senses six presences—five of which scream "unnatural".

"Do you know her, Emiya-kun?"

Two are familiar, and at first the situation puzzles her before she zeroes in on her charge. (Who is that other one?)

"I see. You were the one he was looking for, Emiya Shirou. Shall I leave you to discuss things in private, then? I have some calls to make."

One is her host, self-proclaimed bearer of the host.

"Good evening. It is good to see you're well, Shi-chan."

One is a girl, a teenager with the scent of magic.

"…I'm heading off, too. I may come and visit you in the morning, Emiya-kun. And please, for god's sake, don't do stupid crap in the meantime. It was nice to meet you~~ Let's go, Archer."

One is a warrior, a being of flesh and steel.

"Saber, Illya, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, Shiki-san. He's sort of a senpai in my work. Shiki-san, this is Saber, and this one here is Illyasviel von Einzbern."

The last is a girl, whose very existence hinges on a point that is painfully obvious.

"Good day to you, Shiki-san!"

Six heartbeats on total.

"Good evening to you both. Shi-chan, do you know why I'm here?"

Of course, the calculation doesn't include Ren loitering outside the church.

"Oh, uhhh… is it that time already?"

She walks towards them, a smile on her lips.

"Yes. 'They've' sent me with a task for us to do."

She is as she remembers her:

"Gee… um… there's sort of something that's come up—hmm…"

Willful, responsible, sort-of-oblivious, and a lifestyle that intrigues her the most.

"Huh~~ would it happen to have any connection with a 'grail' of sorts?"

Perfect qualities—

"… What? How do you know about that?"

—In a target.

"Nothing's truly a secret to us all—hero-mongering 101, Shi-chan. Especially when it comes to a self-given quest, like yours."

She can almost imagine the astonishment on her face.

"Why don't we discuss it over breakfast later? I've also been told that Shi-chan needs some rest. It would be kind of rude to spring a task on you while you're fresh from the battlefield too, Shi-chan."

Plus, she needs her rest.

"Yes, your friend speaks wisely, Master. Let us return now, while the time is tranquil."

What an agreeable woman. (Watch out for her)

"Don't forget Illya!" (And her)

_And me_, she imagines someone saying.

"… with Illyasviel."

She nods and bobs her head

as

"it"

brays

in

her

ears

she

imagines

laughter

lamentation

And

"its" roar of triumph.

_You are on the first meters of a long, cursed road, Shi-chan_, she thinks.

As are they all, she corrects herself—priceless puppets dancing to the music of fools and charlatans.

And her smile widens.

_But I'll make sure you won't suffer much when the time comes—_

_And that's a promise._


End file.
